


now I know my ABCs (next time won't you sing with me)

by villiageidiot



Series: abc lifetimes [1]
Category: Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villiageidiot/pseuds/villiageidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-six lifetimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now I know my ABCs (next time won't you sing with me)

_"Our hands were meant to hold each other, fearlessly and forever, which is why it’s never really felt like I’ve been getting to know you; it’s always felt like I was remembering you from something. As if every lifetime you and I ever have lived, we’ve chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again, over and over, for all eternity. And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime because all I want to do — all I’ve ever wanted to do — is spend my life loving you."_

_**A** pocalypse Now: _

Blaine is twenty-six when the zombies attack. He’s twenty-eight when he falls in love. Surprisingly, the two are related.

He becomes the leader of a small town of survivors although he’s not sure how or why. When he was a kid, he had dreams of becoming a famous singer or a Hollywood actor or hey, maybe he’d luck out and fall _in love_ with a famous singer or Hollywood actor and then live the easy life of a househusband. When he was a kid, though, he never thought zombies would eventually be a legitimate concern and that he’d accidentally become the figurehead of a band of the lucky survivors.

No one’s really sure how many places have been affected or how wide it’s spread, if it’s just in Pittsburgh or just in Pennsylvania or even just in the United States. They heard bits and pieces in the beginning, snippets on the radio before the towers went down and before they were cut off from the rest of the population. A few of them sneak out of the barricaded town every once in awhile for a supply run and when they do, they come back with small pieces of news. The whole town celebrates when they find out the zombies are mostly isolated in specific locations because it means there’s hope out there, places they can go where they can eventually not live with the fear of being eaten by the undead.

There’s more celebration when they hear that the government has been working on a cure and that they’ve even been having small successes with their trials.

The Pittsburgh area and Blaine’s small housing development within it haven’t been saved yet because at the time of the initial attack, half of the police force and firefighters were the first to go. They know, though, that there’s hope for them and they can be saved if they just keep holding on, if they can just keep surviving for a little while longer.

Blaine was one of the few that maintained his sanity during that first attack but he has no idea how he actually pulled that off because good god, _zombies were real._ And more importantly, zombies were _eating people._

But somehow he did and people started following his lead. They started watching him for cues, listening when he talked, and shaping their behavior based on his own. Blaine became the role model they all desperately needed. It was an incredible pressure, sure, but it was a challenge he didn’t know how to get rid of, not without causing a downward spiral of morale or jumpstarting a sense of panic and fear.

So he tried his hardest to put on a strong face and decided to deal with his own fears while in the privacy of his own cabin. Most people had to share since their barricaded area was only the size of a small housing development and had to serve as shelter and refuge for a few hundred people. It was one of the perks of becoming the accidental leader — his own private cabin in a mildly isolated square of land several feet away from the rest of the survivors. It wouldn’t have been much in normal times but in the time of surviving the undead, it was a lot.

A year and a half in, after a couple of trips every few months to surrounding developments a mile or two away for food and supplies, Blaine realizes that they have to find someplace new to scavenge. The abandoned houses to the west and the south have been cleaned out of canned goods, bottled water, and toiletries so they have to head to the east and search for more abandoned houses over that way. It’s dangerous, it always is, because they haven’t patrolled the east yet, a wooded area that could be infested with zombies for all they know.

But he knows it’s necessary and he knows he has to be the one to lead the search party because without his levelheadedness and quick thinking, the fear leads way to panic and paranoia. It’s a necessary trip, the logical part of his brain knows that, and it’s even more necessary that he stay calm when all eyes are on him.

Despite all that, Blaine is beyond terrified.

They’re in the middle of the woods, he and a few of the men that came with him, when they hear noises up ahead, something running through the trees. They all start to climb because they’ve learned the zombies aren’t quite smart enough yet to look _up_ for food. The running is faster than it should be, though, with no lumbering sounds or creepy groans. Instead, it sounds like an actual person running with actual labored breathing.

He’s not willing to take the chance that it’s _not_ a zombie, so he turns to run towards the nearest tree when he runs head-on into the zombie.

Or not-zombie, he sees as he rushes to stand up to make his escape, hoping he can outrun it or outclimb it.

The not-zombie turns out to just be a guy, probably around Blaine’s age, staring at him with wide eyes, unkempt hair, and an absolute panicked expression.

They watch each other for a few seconds as if they’re quickly calculating the odds of the other being a zombie. Suddenly, the guy is launching himself into Blaine’s arms but in a relieved, desperate, exhausted kind of way and not in a hey-I’d-really-like-to-eat-you kind of way.

“God, I’ve been rescued. Do you have any food?” he says in a hoarse voice.

“Uh,” Blaine says, still totally off-guard. “No. But that’s where we’re heading right now.”

The guy pulls back, still watching him with terrified eyes. “Please let me come with you. Can I come with you?”

“Of course,” Blaine says immediately. “We’ll make our run for the closest houses, grab some supplies, then head back to camp. Of _course_ you can come with us.”

He grabs the guy’s hand and tugs him along and the guy squeezes back tightly to the point that it’s almost painful. Like maybe he thinks Blaine will let him go and abandon him there.

They make it a quick trip, gathering as much as they can, a few focused on food, a few focused on water, and the rest focused on things they didn’t realize how much they’d need until they were barricaded in a small development running from zombies: soap, socks, toilet paper. As impractical and counterproductive as it is, he holds on to their new refugee the entire time he scavenges and only lets go when he turns to him with canned goods and says, “Can you carry these, do you think?”

They guy nods and reaches out his arms to take as much as he can hold. Blaine keeps his eyes on him the entire run back to camp.

They successfully make it without losing any supplies or any of their men, and the stranger refuses to leave Blaine’s side. Blaine lets the rest of the guys handle their newfound treasures, to put the food and supplies where they belong in the storage shelters in the middle of town. Then he gestures to the new guy to follow him to his own cabin.

He directs him towards the table and puts a bottled water and canned peas in front of him. “Eat,” he says quietly.

He wastes no time downing the whole bottle of water then makes it through half the can before meeting Blaine’s eyes.

“I’m Kurt,” he says.

Blaine nods. “Hi, Kurt. I’m Blaine.”

He takes a few more spoonfuls before continuing. “I’ve been running for a few weeks now. I was with another group holed up underground but —” he stops and looks away. “They found us and I was the only one to get away.”

“A few weeks?” Blaine asks, eyes wide. He’s never heard of anyone surviving that long.

Kurt doesn’t say anything and Blaine realizes how miserable he looks. “I’ll go get you some clean clothes,” he says quietly. “You can go to the bathroom down the hall. I have some water you can use to clean up.”

Kurt looks up with panicked eyes. “Don’t leave. Please.”

Blaine reaches out across the table to pull Kurt’s hands into his own. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” he whispers. It takes a few moments for Kurt to let go.

When he comes back with some clothes, he sees Kurt sitting on the edge of Blaine’s bed looking cleaner and more relaxed. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” Blaine suggests.

Kurt looks at him and doesn’t answer at first. “Can I stay in here?”

“Sure,” he says, not hesitating for even a second.

Kurt sleeps for hours and Blaine wonders how long it’s been since he’s had more than a few hours of actual rest. He puts some blankets on the hard floor and sets up a makeshift bed for himself. He wakes up around midnight to see that Kurt’s abandoned the bed to join Blaine on the floor and when he wakes up the morning, he sees that Kurt’s pressed up against his side.

It’s this moment that Blaine’s protective instincts kick in and probably also the moment he starts falling a little bit in love.

:

Kurt mellows eventually when he realizes he’s not going to be abandoned, when he sees he’s safe behind the barricaded walls. He doesn’t look at Blaine the way the rest of the town does, doesn’t look at him like he’s awaiting orders or like he’s some messiah to be honored. It’s refreshing to Blaine and he didn’t realize how much he needed someone to treat him like he was normal until someone actually does.

Kurt _does_ look at him intensely, though, only with something different in his eyes. Something better.

Blaine shows him the ropes, where they raise the chickens, how they feed the cattle, how they grow the grain. They don’t have electricity anymore and they ran out of gasoline ages ago so they all make do, they all pitch in, and they adapt. He shows Kurt their make-shift landfills, where they bury their trash so that the smell doesn’t attract the zombies. Kurt looks totally grossed out during the entire tour.

“We all help out,” Blaine says. “Everyone has their turn helping out.”

Kurt stares at him. “I can’t do that.”

Blaine’s eyebrows raise. “You can’t?”

“No,” he answers. “I don’t know the first thing about burying waste or milking a cow. I was a _model_ before all of this.”

Blaine smiles to himself , super unsurprised about the model thing. He’s had plenty of time to watch Kurt during the past few days and — yeah, totally not surprised at all. “You’ll learn.”

“Uh, I don’t want to learn,” he argues.

Blaine laughs and decides not to push the issue right yet.

:

Kurt sleeps in Blaine’s room and most nights, in Blaine’s bed. He’s not sure how it happened, only that Kurt stayed with him his second night there and then his his third and then — just kept staying.

One morning, before Blaine’s just about to head outside, Kurt grabs his hand and slowly tugs him closer until they’re only inches from each other. He watches Blaine for a few moments before deliberately leaning in to kiss Blaine square on the lips. It’s quick and takes Blaine by surprise.

Blaine swallows. “You don’t have to do that just to stay in here.”

Kurt gives him small smile. “I’m not. It’s a thank you for rescuing me.”

For some reason, it bothers Blaine a little — that _that’s_ why Kurt kissed him. “So like a hero complex or something?”

“No,” he says quietly. “It’s because I see you with the people here and you’re the most patient, level-headed, kind person that I know. And someone like me, that’s exactly what I want in my life. That type of person.”

“Oh,” he says.

Kurt kisses him again.

As soon as they start sleeping together, everyone knows it.

“When’s the last time he took the trash to the landfill?” a girl asks him one morning, eyebrow arched. “Or milked the cows?”

“Your boy doesn’t do _any_ of that stuff,” someone else adds. “He’s sleeping with you and using you to get out of it. And you know it.”

Blaine frowns because no, no he didn’t. And he’s pretty sure they’re wrong but it bothers him for the rest of the day anyway.

When he heads back to his cabin, he has a speech worked out in his head to point-blank ask Kurt if he’s been using him. When he gets there, though, he sees Kurt setting the table with a bowl of warm Spaghetti-Os in the center and a bottle of wine.

“I bribed that lady a few shacks over for the wine,” he says proudly. “Well, I made a trade for that antique pin I found out back.”

Blaine tries to process the sight in front of him. “You were so excited about that pin.”

He shrugs. “I figured you’d like this more.” He gestures for Blaine to take a seat. “And I had one of the kids show me how to make a fire so that I could warm this up for you.”

Blaine swallows thickly and takes his seat. As he enjoys a half-glass of cheap wine and some lukewarm canned processed food, he thinks about how wrong everyone else is.

“It’s been exactly one month since you rescued me,” Kurt adds. “Happy one month anniversary.”

No way is Blaine being used. He doesn’t care if everyone thinks he’s wrong. He knows it in his heart.

:

A few months later, Blaine heads out for another supply run. Kurt tries in vain to keep him from leaving.

“Please don’t leave,” he says desperately. “Don’t go out there again. Let it be someone else’s turn.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he says quietly with a sad smile. “These people are my responsibility.”

He leaves the camp with Kurt’s panicked expression burned into his memory and it’s all he can see until he gets back. When he goes to his cabin, he opens the door to see Kurt sitting in the table looking like a wreck. He’s teary eyed and shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says from the doorway. “But I’m back now.”

Kurt leaps at him and clings tightly. “I love you. Please don’t go anymore.”

Kurt _loves_ him and Blaine doesn’t care if everyone thinks he’s being used.

:

A few weeks later, someone else comes up to point out that Kurt _still_ hasn’t shown up for a trash duty.

Blaine brings it up after dinner and Kurt flat out refuses. “No, Blaine. It’s _trash_.”

He sighs. “Kurt, you can’t get away with stuff like that just because you’re sleeping with the resistance leader.”

“Oh can’t I, Blaine?” he says with a flirty grin and an arched eyebrow. He pushes Blaine back on the bed and leans over him. “Can’t I?”

Blaine tries to look away because Jesus, he’s such a pushover when he sees the way Kurt looks at him. But he can’t look away. He never can.

:

“Kurt,” Blaine groans one night. “Someone said you bailed on milking the cows today.”

“I started sewing clothes,” Kurt says defensively. “I know we all need more clothes. Doesn’t that count?”

“No,” Blaine says. “Well, kind of, but you have to do the hard stuff, too. It makes me look spineless when everyone pitches in but you bail.”

“Spineless?” Kurt echoes, sitting up straight. “Are you losing respect out there? Because I’m sor—”

“No,” Blaine answers. “But they tease me constantly about how I’m so brave in the woods against a pack of ravenous zombies but too afraid to stand up to my ‘boytoy’.”

Kurt’s apologetic look immediately fades. “Boytoy?” he asks, making his way over to Blaine on the bed and grinning. “Blaine, I’m one hundred percent man.”

“I know,” Blaine says, defeated. “Trust me, I know. But that’s not the point.”

Kurt sighs and concedes. “Fine. I’ll make more of an effort.” He pushes Blaine down on the bed and turns him over so he can give him a back massage. “I promise, I’ll try. They need you to be positive and happy out there and it’s my job to make sure you’re positive and happy so if you need me to do those things then I will.”

:

The next day, Blaine goes looking for him just to check up because he’s fifty percent sure Kurt will follow through but also fifty percent pretty sure that it was all lip-service. He finds him in one of the barns trying to milk a cow.

“ _Trash_ ,” he mutters to the cow. “Like I touched actual trash with my actual hands and then buried it in actual dirt. This is — it’s so ridiculous. What the hell are you — stop — stop moving, you dumb cow.”

The cow makes some sort of protest of how poorly Kurt’s trying to milk him.

“Oh I’m _sorry_ ,” he grits out. “I’m just _so_ sorry if I’m doing this wrong but you’re a _cow_ so I really don’t want to hear it.”

Blaine bites his lip and smiles to himself.

“Blame Blaine,” Kurt complains to the cow. “This isn’t my fault, this is _his.”_ The cow lets out another moo protest and Kurt stops trying to tug. “God, I can’t believe — how — I hope he’s happy. I hope he’s really really happy with himself.”

He sighs then takes a seat back on the stool and stares up at the irritated cow. “I’m milking a _cow_ for him,” he tells the cow. “There’s no one in the world I would ever do this for and — oh sure, he tells me that _he’s_ the spineless one and yet here I am getting myself filthy with mud and hay and whatever it is falling out of your mouth right now just because he asked me to. Being in love is — it’s a lot more —”

Kurt reaches for the cow and sighs one more time. “It’s scary the things we’ll do when we’re in love. Take my advice, don’t do it. You’ll just end up digging a hole to bury a bag that smells a whole hell of a lot like human waste.”

Blaine slips away, unnoticed, and smiles to himself for the rest of the day.

When Kurt finally gets home that night, he narrows his eyes at Blaine and says, “I smell like a disgusting mix of sewage, livestock and dairy right now and you better still love me in spite of it.”

Blaine gives him a warm smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.”

:

Kurt sticks with it, to Blaine’s surprise, though he’s absolutely miserable. He puts on a brave face but Blaine can see that everyday he gets a little worse. He’s totally, absolutely miserable.

Blaine breaks down and brings it up to a few of the other guys that have stepped up to take some leadership responsibilities.

“We really do need someone to make clothes, you know,” he says vaguely. “We’re all wearing shirts that are practically threadbare and we could use someone to mend what we’ve got and create what we need.”

A couple guys roll their eyes. “Kurt stopped putting out?”

Blaine’s eyes widen. “What — no, that’s—”

“I don’t care,” someone says. “Stick him full time with clothes and take him out of the trash rotation.”

The rest of them agree, legitimately not caring. Blaine smiles and hopes that this news will soften the blow of his _other_ news.

Blaine waits until they’re eating before he brings it up. “We — supplies are low, Kurt —” he starts.

“No,” Kurt interrupts, head shooting up. “No, you’re not going again.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says quietly. “You know I have to.”

“ _No_ ,” he repeats. “Can’t someone else step up? Can’t someone else lead everyone, just this once?”

Blaine gives him a weak smile. “You don’t want a new leader,” he teases. “You have it good by sleeping with _this_ one. I just got you onto full time clothes manufacturing and if we get a new leader, you might get put right back on trash duty.”

Kurt momentarily registers the good news but shakes his head. “I don’t _care_ ,” he says, voice catching. “I’ll take trash all day everyday if it means you don’t leave anymore.”

They watch each other and Blaine isn’t really sure what else he can say. He has to go and Kurt has to let him, end of story.

:

This trip isn’t as successful as a few of their others. The group gets trapped in an abandoned apartment complex while trying to wait out a passing group of zombies traveling in packs. They’re on the run for a bit and they end up spending three days out in the woods. Blaine’s pretty confident that they’ll all get back safely once they wait it out but he’s also pretty confident that Kurt’s having a complete mental breakdown back at camp.

When they all successfully make it back with supplies and canned goods in tow, he sees he’s not wrong. Kurt’s sitting at the table, staring blankly at his hands and looking like he hasn’t slept the entire time Blaine was gone.

“Kurt,” he says softly from the doorway. “It’s okay, I’m back. You’re okay now.”

His eyes are wet when he rushes at Blaine to hold him tightly.

:

Blaine gathers the whole camp in the center square a few hours later to tell them that it seems like the end is near, that a rescue is just around the corner. They heard military aircraft searching from above, saw some towns far off in the distance looking like they’re in recovery. He genuinely thinks that things are looking up, that their rescue is only a matter of time.

:

“This life is almost over,” Blaine says quietly from where they sit on the bed, backs against the wall and sides pressed up close. “I hope you’ll stick around when we get out of here. When I’m not some leader of the resistance.”

“Over?” Kurt scoffs. “When we get out of here, it’s just the beginning, Blaine.”

Blaine gives him a weak smile. “What if that hero complex of yours fades someday? What if the fact that I saved you from zombies isn’t enough anymore?” he asks. “Because let’s face it, Kurt. When it comes down to it, I’m just some guy who rescued you one time and kept you safe for awhile.”

Kurt shifts to to stare at him with a serious expression. “I don’t care how many times you saved me or how long you kept me safe. You’ll always be the hero that rescued me.”

Blaine swallows. “You think?”

“Always,” Kurt says with a soft voice. “And I’ll spend a lifetime proving it to you.”

: : :

_**B** lood and Ballpoints: _

There are two stories that Blaine Anderson could tell about his life as a field agent for the Crime Scene Investigation unit of the police department.

The first story would start when he was about seven years old which was right around the time his parents realized that Blaine was an _indoor_ _kid,_ the kind of kid that liked encyclopedias and The Discovery Channel. This story would talk about winning the All-Ohio Youth Science Fair every year in middle school and then winning first place for four years running at the All-Ohio _High School_ Science Fair. The story would then go on to talk about his college years and graduating with honors before landing a steady well-paying CSI field agent position in the Westerville Police Department. The end.

Or.

Or he could tell the other story. This one starts with a breakup and subsequent transfer to the Lima Police Department. It’s a story with people even nerdier than Blaine and quite possibly the hottest guy Blaine has ever seen in real life. The second story is more exciting. This second story is a love story.

:

Blaine shows up for his first day about a half hour early. He works third shift so around ten thirty p.m., he’s making his way into the police department wearing a smile, a new bowtie and roughly ten ounces of hair gel (which is about twice the recommended amount listed on the back of the bottle). He’s looking for a Mike Chang.

Mike finds him first.

“Blaine Anderson?”

Blaine turns around to come face to face with who he assumes is his new field partner. “Yes?”

Mike offers him a handshake and a small smile. “Mike Chang.”

“Nice to meet you,” Blaine says, grinning. “I guess we—”

“Let’s go,” Mike interrupts. “Homicide over on Highland Street.”

Blaine blinks. “That was quick.”

Mike shrugs and leads them towards the front doors. “Welcome to Lima, Blaine.”

An hour later, Mike’s hunched over the body of some dead old guy and picking hairs off of the dead guy’s sweater vest with a small pair of tweezers.

“He has a full head of gray hair,” Mike is saying. “So why would he have a few stray blond hairs resting on his shoulders?”

Blaine’s running his eyes over the pillowcase on the dead guy’s bed as he looks for any abnormalities or foreign fibers. After a few moments, he places the pillowcase in a large bag and seals it. “This is our murder weapon. I’m assuming your coroner will find cotton fibers in his digestive tract.”

Mike glances up quickly. “Our coroner,” he reminds him. “You work here now, too.”

“Oh,” he replies with a smile. “Right.”

They go back to working in silence. After about fifteen minutes, one of the detectives hands him a few sealed bags.

Mike steps away from Dead Guy to come take a look at the bags in Blaine’s hand. “Collector stamps, some jewelry, and … what’s that? A will?”

Blaine frowns as he looks at the document. “It looks like it, yeah.”

“Okay,” Mike says, making his way back towards the body. “Why don’t you bring those back to see what the lab techs can find out? Drop the will off to Handwriting, see what he thinks.”

He stands there, confused. “Take it to what?”

“Handwriting,” he answers over his shoulder.

But Blaine’s still confused. “You have someone that specializes in handwriting?”

“Yeah,” Mike says slowly, turning to face him. “You didn’t?”

He shrugs. “Back in Westerville, everyone sort of did a little of everything.”

“Hm,” Mike says by way of a response. “Well, take that to Kurt. See what he finds.”

“Right,” he says. “Great.” So he takes the sealed will to Kurt.

(This is where the love story begins.)

: : :

Blaine has to ask the front desk where to find someone named Kurt because hello, _he is new_ and no one has told him anything or introduced him to anyone and good god, his first day is already more intense than most others back at his old job.

So he makes his way back to the second lab on the left, per the front desk guy’s instructions, and knocks gently on the door frame. And then this guy turns around and _holy shit._

“Yes?” he asks with an arched eyebrow.

Blaine blinks and tries to find his voice. “This — uh. Here. It’s — this.”

The guy stares at him. “Okay,” he says slowly. “You can leave it on the counter right over there.”

Blaine drops it on his counter and then just … stands there. Motionless. Silent.

The guy watches him and starts to look a little confused.

Blaine can feel his face heat up and he figures he should introduce himself to make this whole thing less weird but what comes out is, “Blaine?”

And now the guy looks _way_ confused. “Is that a question?”

“No,” he answers, wishing the ground would maybe swallow him whole. “That’s me. It’s my name. Blaine Anderson. Me.”

He shifts from confused to amused immediately. “Ah, I see. Well, nice to meet you, Agent Anderson. I’m Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine nods and instead of trying to maintain a conversation like _a normal person would,_ he hurries from the room before he humiliates himself even more.

He finds Mike a few minutes later, still a little flushed from embarrassment. Mike eyes him but doesn’t comment on it. Instead he says, “The detectives have the victim’s sons in the interrogation room just to ask a few questions. We can go listen in.”

Blaine follows him but pauses en route when his cellphone starts buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out to see: _Get me a handwritten copy of your suspects’ statements._ He looks at it quizzically until Mike peers over his shoulder to read.

“That’s Kurt’s number,” he tells Blaine.

Blaine stares at his phone because he literally just met the guy and he already has his number. “Kurt… has my number,” he says to himself and sadly, out loud.

Mike gives him a knowing smile. “And he’s single, FYI.”

That breaks Blaine from his thoughts. “Oh. No, I don’t date co-workers. That’s how I ended up here in the first place.”

Mike shrugs and they continue on their way. Just like he was asked, Blaine gets two handwriting samples and brings them back to Kurt’s lab who takes them and promptly places them under his microscope. He fiddles around for a few minutes before finally looking back up to Blaine and Mike.

“This is your guy,” he says, waving around the statement of the youngest son. “The second half of this will has been forged and it was by whoever wrote this.”

Blaine’s incredibly impressed and they get a confession almost immediately. “That,” Blaine says to Mike, “was amazing.”

“And he’s single,” Mike says again.

“And I don’t date co-workers,” Blaine reminds him.

:

A week later, they’re investigating the possible re-emergence of a convicted serial killer. They thought the guy was in jail and that they caught him years ago but suddenly there’s a string of murders with the same MO: strangulation then blunt force trauma, a white rose and a Post-It note with just a small smile left at the scene of the crime.

Blaine hasn’t had a reason to see Kurt for the past seven days so he sees his opportunity even though he can’t imagine the Post-It means much of anything. “I can take this to Kurt later maybe?”

Mike looks up at him from where’s he’s dusting fingerprints off of a bookshelf and then glances around the room where there are probably fifty other things more important than the Post-It but he just shrugs. “Sure.”

And a few hours later, Blaine’s dropping the sealed bag off at Kurt’s lab. He takes it from Blaine and gives him a smile. “Hello again.”

“This is — here, it’s from the crime scene. It’s — here.” He’s apparently still not able to form complete sentences but it’s better than their last talk, so.

“I figured,” Kurt says, taking a step around from his counter and a few feet closer to Blaine. “If you can get me the notes from the investigation a few years ago, I’ll see what I can find out.”

He’s still smiling and he cocks his head and if Blaine’s not mistaken, Kurt’s definitely flirting with him.

“Nice tie, by the way,” Kurt casually says. “Brings out the green in your eyes.”

Blaine swallows thickly, gives him some kind of thank you then hurries from the room again.

A few hours later, he gets a text from Kurt: _Copycat killer. This pen is a standard BIC ballpoint and your original serial killer always used a custom retractable Montblanc._

He has absolutely _no idea_ how Kurt’s able to figure that out but it leads them to a few generic office stores and then a few security cameras that they cross-reference with the FBI database and suddenly, they’ve found their killer.

“Nice work,” Mike says after the confession. “Thinking to bring that to Handwriting.”

“Oh. Right,” Blaine replies, trying not to make eye contact.

:

The next case is pretty open and shut, a college kid stealing checks from her roommate and making them out to herself before cashing them. They’ve practically got a confession and her fingerprints are all over the checkbook plus they’ve caught her on dozens of bank security cameras. But still —

“I should take these over to Kurt,” Blaine says, holding out the sealed bags with a few of the cashed checks.

Mike eyes him. “This case is kind of already in the bag, Blaine.”

He shrugs defensively. “You never know what could happen if this somehow goes to trial. It’s good backup just in case.”

Mike shakes his head to himself. “Fine. Go. Do — whatever.”

So Blaine shows up to Kurt’s lab and takes a seat while Kurt goes to examine the checks immediately.

“Where did you get that cardigan?” Kurt asks him, already looking at something in his telescope.

“Do you like it?” Blaine says by way of an answer.

“I do,” Kurt tells him. “It fits you nicely.”

Blaine feels his face heat up but he doesn’t flee from the room for once, which he considers progress.

They talk for a few minutes more until Kurt’s finished finding whatever it was he was looking for. He steps around his counter again, purposefully walks up to Blaine, and hands him the check back in the sealed bag.

“She’s your thief,” Kurt says like Blaine and the rest of the team didn’t already know that.

They watch each other and Kurt never breaks eye contact. Blaine finally looks away when Kurt gives him a flirty smile.

And then flees from the room, which he assumes is a no-go on the progress.

:

The next case, he definitely has a harder time finding a reason. He brings Kurt a piece of scrap paper with a sandwich order written on it.

Kurt eyes it. “And this is?”

“It was in the park,” Blaine explains. “A few feet away from the body.”

“Ah, I see. And you think it has to do with your suspect.”

Blaine looks at the paper. “Uh, no. I don’t think so.”

Kurt gives him a side eye. “So I’m supposed to do what with this?”

Blaine gives him a weak smile. “Put it under your microscope and see what you find?”

He takes the sealed bag from Blaine’s hand but intentionally makes sure to brush over it with his own hand first.

Blaine inhales sharply.

“Another charming tie,” Kurt says as he walks back towards his telescope. “You have excellent style. And it goes great with your shoes.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says quietly. “I’ll just — sit here and wait, if that’s okay?”

Kurt lets out a small laugh. “I’d be honored,” he teases.

Blaine feels his face warm up just like it always seems to do when he’s in this lab.

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt hands it back to him. “Seems to be just a standard sandwich order, Agent Anderson. Judging by the way the “ _m”s_ and the “ _p”_ s look, I’d say it was written in a hurry and I’m guessing by a left handed woman.”

Blaine nods, knowing that their suspect is definitely a right handed guy. “Okay, thanks,” he says.

Kurt gives him another one of his flirty smiles. “Of course. Anything for my favorite field agent.”

Blaine leaves the lab with his heart pounding but this time the way a normal person would walk out.

:

A few days later, Blaine is back with an actual legitimate handwritten sample left at a crime, a confessional note that he’s pretty sure is fake.

He walks in after straightening his tie and is finally brave enough to offer Kurt a bright smile.

But Kurt barely looks up. “Oh, hi,” he says casually, nothing like his normal flirty tone.

Blaine’s smile falters. “Hi,” he replies. “I have a letter for you. We think it’s a forced confession.”

Kurt nods, still looking at his telescope. “Sure. Just leave it on the counter and I’ll text you when I find something.”

“Oh,” Blaine says. He didn’t realize Kurt prioritized things until he wasn’t a priority anymore. He stands awkwardly by Kurt’s counter. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” Kurt says in response. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

Blaine just watches him for a few moments. “Okay,” he says, unconvinced, as he reluctantly leaves the room.

When he gets a text from Kurt later that evening saying _You’re right, definitely a forced confession. I don’t think this is your guy_ , he rushes back to the lab hoping Kurt’s a little less distracted.

“Thanks,” Blaine says immediately as he half-runs into the lab.

Kurt shrugs, messing around with a pair of tweezers and scraps of paper on his counter. “It’s my job.”

Blaine hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because you don’t seem okay. You haven’t even commented on my tie.”

He sighs and meets Blaine’s eyes. “Word travels, Agent. And I hear you don’t date co-workers.”

Blaine’s stomach sinks. “Oh — yeah, that’s — it’s just that I’ve done it before and it ended badly. Like, really badly.”

“Which is fine,” Kurt says. “I get it, I do. But I’m not going to waste my time flirting with you and making things awkward.”

Blaine just stands there, no idea how to respond to that. “You don’t make things awkward,” he finally says after a few moments.

“If I keep going, though, I could,” Kurt replies. “And I don’t want to be the co-worker that can’t take a hint.”

Then he’s back to his scraps of paper and Blaine leaves after watching him a minute more.

:

Things change. Kurt is still perfectly nice to him, he jokes and smiles and says good morning, just like he does with everyone else.

And it bothers him. Blaine’s just like everyone else. He _hates_ it.

:

“Things _are_ awkward,” Blaine says after two weeks as he heads into Kurt’s lab and shuts the door behind him. “I don’t like the way you’re treating me.”

Kurt gives him a confused look. “I’m not treating you like anything,” he argues. “I’m being perfectly normal.”

“I know,” Blaine sighs, exasperated. “Stop it. I want you to smile at me and tell me you like my tie and walk into my personal space so close that I can see the color of your eyes.”

“Blaine,” Kurt says hesitantly. “I—”

“I want you to date me,” he interrupts. “But not cheat on me with another lab tech or blatantly hit on eye witnesses right in front of me or lie to me about working a double shift so you can go to Vegas with your friends.”

Kurt blinks. “You’ve had some awful boyfriends.”

“That’s just one,” Blaine tells him. “I won’t even get into the guys before that.”

Kurt looks at him skeptically. “Seriously? Wow.”

“I want to be your favorite agent again,” he continues. “I want you to tell people about us and not hide it from your friends and your family and everyone you work with. I want you to fall in love with me someday and tell me stories about your family. I want — I just want everything from you, Kurt. I want _you_.”

Kurt watches him carefully and Blaine holds his breath.

“I accept your conditions,” Kurt says softly.

“Really?” Blaine says, slowly smiling. “All of them?”

“Yes,” Kurt says matter-of-factly. “As for my conditions…”

Blaine prepares himself.

“You need to start wearing sterilized gloves in here. When you touch my counter, you leave fingerprints with trace amounts of hair gel.”

Blaine laughs and nods. “And?”

“And wait for me in the locker room after our shift ends. It’s seven a.m. and no one ever wants to wait and I’ve _always_ wanted for someone to wait.”

“I accept your conditions,” Blaine tells him. “And since I’m probably not allowed to kiss you in here what with all the sterilized surfaces and untainted evidence, I’ll be waiting for you in the locker room right now.”

He hurries from the room but this time for a different reason because _oh my god_ , he might officially be dating Kurt Hummel.

That’s how the love story — and that lifetime — begins.

: : :

_**C** aptain Bowtie: _

Blaine has a ton of the totally cliché traits of a modern superhero but the most glaringly obvious is his weakness for a damsel in distress, although his damsel is actually a guy named Kurt Hummel.

His abilities started around fifteen and amidst all the other drama that happened during puberty, it scared the shit out of him. Suddenly out of nowhere, his hands would start vibrating, a small practically unnoticeable hum, and when he’d close his eyes and re-open them, he’d be somewhere totally random, no clue how he got there or what the hell he was supposed to do. After a few months, he finally figured out that he was supposed to be helping people. He was sent wherever he was sent for a reason, whether it was to help an old lady cross the street or get a cat out of a tree (or one time get an _old lady_ out of a tree) and when whatever it was that he was sent to do was finished, he could close his eyes and clench his fists and end up right back where he started. As he got older, the cats-in-trees stuff evolved into attempted muggings and convenience store hold-ups. And then once he wasn’t a teenager anymore, things got even heavier like stopping one of his many arch-nemeses from running a train off a cliff or blowing up a boat.

But then one day, it isn’t just a small vibration. His entire _hand_ buzzes and it isn’t painful exactly, but it’s not pleasant either. It feels nothing like it usually does so for the first time in a long time, he freaks the hell out.

Enter Kurt Hummel.

Blaine grabs the small black mask from out of his pocket and slips it on before straightening his tie, clenching his fists, and closing his eyes. When he opens them again, he finds himself in a darkened alley in the middle of a city — New York, probably — just a few feet behind some slender man walking briskly through it, not a care in the world and totally oblivious to the creepy maybe-mugger lurking in the shadows behind a dumpster. From the back, the slender guy almost looks like the kid Blaine was in love with all throughout high school, even walks just like him. Before he has a chance to dwell on his many missed opportunities with his high school crush, the probably-mugger steps out of the shadows just as the guy walks past him. Blaine jogs to get a little closer to the two of them and just as the definitely-mugger raises up a knife towards the guy, Blaine blocks him and deflects the knife, watching it fly up and land on the roof of an abandoned building. The slender man startles at the sudden commotion and turns around to see the would-be-mugger totally getting his ass kicked by Captain Bowtie.

When he turns around and meets Blaine’s eyes, Blaine sees that _holy crap_ , it _is_ Kurt Hummel, the kid he was in love with all throughout high school. He falters in surprise for a second which is almost enough time for the not-mugger to get away but thankfully, Blaine regains his composure in time to tackle the guy and then use his superhuman strength and agility to tie him to the nearest fire escape ladder.

“Captain Bowtie?” Kurt says, eyes wide. “How did you get here?”

Blaine shrugs with a nervous smile because _he is talking to Kurt Hummel,_ holy hell. “It’s what I do,” he answers noncommittally.

Kurt stares at him, eyes still wide.

“Here,” Blaine says, offering an arm for Kurt to grab. “I’ll escort you to the street and away from these dangerous back alleys. Which, hello, why are you even walking in a back alley?”

“It’s the quickest way from work to home,” Kurt answers as he takes Blaine’s proffered arm. “I— that’s never happened before. I thought it was safe.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “You’re an attractive man walking through a darkened alley at _night_ and you thought it was safe.”

Kurt ducks his head at the inadvertent compliment and smiles. “I promise I won’t do it again. Even if it _is_ the most direct route.”

Blaine tugs him along. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“I promise,” Kurt says again with a little more sincerity.

“Seriously, promise.”

“I just did!” Kurt says.

Blaine sighs as they reach the main well-lit street full of dozens of people. “I don’t really believe you, though.”

Kurt lets out a small laugh. “I _promise_.”

Blaine watches him. “I guess I’ll just have to keep my eye on you, Kurt Hummel.”

He blinks. “Wait, how did you know my—”

But Blaine smiles, closes his eyes, and leaves.

:

The second time the buzzing in his hands happens, he starts freaking out again because it hasn’t happened in two weeks, not since that almost mugging in the alley, and he can’t figure out what’s causing it. He slips on his mask, straightens the tie, clenches his fists and opens his eyes —

— in a perfectly safe, well-lit apartment building standing in front of room 208. He pauses, a little confused, then knocks on the door.

It opens a few moments later and suddenly, Blaine is staring face-to-face with Kurt Hummel who’s holding a spatula in one hand and a measuring cup in the other.

He startles. “Captain Bowtie? You’re… at my apartment.”

Blaine stands in the hallway, awkward. “Yes.”

Kurt eyes him. “Why,” he says slowly, “are you at my apartment?”

Blaine looks down one end of the hallway then looks down the other end. Everything looks pretty safe and normal. “I … have no idea,” he answers honestly.

Suddenly, a loud explosion sounds from the kitchen and they both jump.

“What was that?” Kurt says in a hushed voice. He looks terrified and Blaine pulls him out into the hallway to stand in front of him, to shield him from whatever the hell just happened in Kurt’s kitchen.

“Stay here,” he says to Kurt. “Don’t move from this hallway.”

Kurt nods.

When Blaine carefully heads towards the kitchen, he sees that the entire room looks scorched. “What the hell,” he whispers to himself. If he had shown up just ten seconds later, Kurt would have been in this kitchen, he’s sure of it. Just _ten seconds_.

By the time the fire department has shown up and figured out that it was an isolated gas leak, Blaine’s already walked Kurt to the nearest hotel and deposited him safely in front of his rented room.

“How did you know to be there?” Kurt asks him quietly.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I get this feeling when I’m supposed to be somewhere to help someone but with you — it’s like a buzz or a sting and I just — I _knew_.”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “It stings? I’m so sorry, I don’t know how that happens but I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t hurt, don’t apologize. It just feels — stronger, maybe.”

They’re quiet. “What do you think that means?” he asks Blaine.

He’s not sure how to answer that. “I’m glad you’re safe, Kurt,” he says before closing his eyes and disappearing.

:

The third time his hands buzz, he freaks out again but this time because he figures it has something to do with Kurt and the idea of Kurt in danger — it scares him like nothing else has.

He straightens his tie, slips on his mask, clenches his hands—

then appears in a bank vault. He has only a moment to gather his surroundings, to see Kurt amidst ten or fifteen other people locked inside. Before he even has time to think about what he’s doing, he grabs Kurt, closes his eyes, and thinks about the rooftop over his own apartment complex. Within seconds, that’s where they’re both standing and Blaine’s eyes quickly scan Kurt’s face for any signs of injury. When he sees he’s safe, Blaine whispers, “Stay here, don’t move. I’ll be back for you.” Kurt nods and then Blaine disappears again back to the bank vault. He uses his strength to pry open the first set of doors and then to push out the second set of doors. It takes most of his energy and almost an hour and he’s drained by the time everyone crawls out to the fresh air. After he’s sure everyone is safe enough, he closes his eyes to make his way back to the rooftop.

Kurt is sitting down, looking out over the city.

Blaine sits next to him.

“You rescued me,” Kurt says after a long silence.

“It’s what I do,” he says back, self-conscious.

“But _me,”_ Kurt points out. “You brought me here and then went back for everyone else.”

Blaine blinks and is immediately embarrassed. There were probably mothers and fathers in the vault and yet his first instinct was to reach for Kurt and get him out of the situation.

They’re quiet for a few more minutes until Kurt stands up and Blaine follows his lead. Kurt takes a few steps until he’s only inches from Blaine then tentatively reaches his hand up to play with his bowtie.

“So what’s in this thing?” he asks. “Is it a weapon like some kind of razor or taser?”

Blaine frowns. “What?”

“Or is it more of a utility thing?” Kurt wonders aloud. “Like with a lockpick and a grapple gun.”

“No,” Blaine says, still frowning. “I just — I liked the color.”

Kurt blinks. “Your bowtie is just a bowtie?”

He shrugs and tries not to feel defensive.

Kurt smiles then carefully moves his hand from the bowtie up to Blaine’s cheek.

Blaine leans in to the touch even though he definitely knows what’s about to happen next.

Slowly slowly, Kurt starts to push the mask up over Blaine’s eyes. “Who are you, Captain Bowtie?” he whispers.

Blaine tenses when Kurt pushes the entire mask off, when Kurt sees who he really is.

“Blaine Anderson?” he says with surprised eyes. “It’s you?”

He smiles nervously. “You remember me?”

Kurt watches him with the same small smile and doesn’t say anything.

“Let’s get you home,” Blaine says, feeling a little too exposed. He pulls Kurt in tight until his arms are gripped around Blaine’s waist and his head is tucked into Blaine’s shoulders.

He brings Kurt back to his hotel room then leaves before Kurt has the chance to say anything else.

:

The fourth time they buzz, Blaine immediately tenses and slips the mask on as he’s already closing his eyes.

Kurt’s tangled in a hanging rope trap from one of the trees in an isolated park.

He grins when Blaine cuts him down and throws his arms over Blaine’s shoulders. Suddenly they’re kissing and walking backwards into a tree.

“I knew you’d find me, Captain Bowtie,” Kurt whispers in between kisses.

Blaine freezes when he realizes that so did _they_.

Everyone knows how to get to him now.

:

The next time, Blaine finds him tied to the steering wheel and stranded on a boat. Kurt’s grinning which just makes Blaine even more freaked out.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Kurt says nonchalantly like he’s not _handcuffed to a boat._

Blaine’s got him untied within seconds but his hands are shaking when he’s done.

“I have a note for you from the masked villain that brought me here,” Kurt tells him as he pulls something out of his pocket.

Blaine opens it to read simple block letters: _We know your weakness, Captain Bowtie._

Kurt peers over his shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Blaine crumples the paper and tries to keep himself from freaking out more than he already is. “You don’t get it?”

He frowns. “No. Should I?”

“You,” Blaine says, exasperated. “They figured out how I feel about you.”

Kurt pauses. “And how do you feel about me?”

Blaine shakes his head and doesn’t answer.

“Well, if you’re wondering how I feel about _you_ ,” he says quietly before leaning in for a kiss.

Blaine kisses back for a moment but then forces himself to pull away. “This is serious.”

“Who cares what they know?” Kurt says with an eye roll. “I just like seeing you.”

Blaine takes a step back. “But that means you’re in danger and I — I hate that, Kurt. I mean it, this is serious.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kurt argues, closing the distance between them. “Not Captain Bowtie. I like seeing _you.”_

He cautiously pushes up the mask again and Blaine goes rigid. He feels exposed, _too_ exposed, not just to Kurt but to all of those supervillains that now know exactly how to cripple him.

He grabs Kurt, closes his eyes, drops Kurt to safety, then disappears again without saying goodbye.

:

The next time his hands buzz, he winds up pulling Kurt out of a burning building. After everyone else is led to safety, he brings Kurt up to the rooftop again and paces nervously while Kurt just watches him.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says to himself.

“Doing what?” Kurt asks with a smile. “Pulling me from burning buildings? Because come on, it was only one time.”

“This isn’t a joke, Kurt,” Blaine says sharply. “I’ve been getting threats, did you know that?”

Kurt blinks, smile fading. “No. What kind of threats?”

He stops pacing to stare at him. “Threats about _you_. The ways they’ll hurt you if I don’t give them what they want.”

“Oh,” he says.

Blaine shakes his head sadly. “I can’t keep doing this. Leaving you in danger. Exposing you to them.”

Kurt gives him an annoyed look. “I don’t care what they threaten. I want to see you.”

Blaine sighs, frustrated. “Don’t you get that when we see each other it means you’re in danger?”

“No,” Kurt argues, still irritated. “When I see Captain Bowtie, it’s because I’m in danger. I want to see _you_ , Blaine.” He reaches for Blaine’s mask but he pulls away.

“Kurt, why can’t you take this seriously?” he pleads. “I don’t want you to keep being in danger just because they know they can use you.”

Kurt cocks his head and gives him a sad look. “Don’t you think we could be worth it?”

Blaine swallows as he quickly considers his options. “I’m taking you somewhere, Kurt. Far from here, far from this city. Far from _me.”_

Kurt freezes. “Wait what?”

He reaches for Kurt, pulls him in tightly then transports them somewhere, a crowded beach someplace in the sun. He doesn’t look around, doesn’t look at the people or the landscape, doesn’t want to know where he’s leaving Kurt. He wants him someplace safe and someplace his enemies won’t find him.

Kurt turns to him with wide-eyes when he sees what Blaine’s done and that he’s probably carried him halfway around the globe, but Blaine’s gone before he can say a word.

:

Blaine doesn’t feel the strong buzz in hands after that. Although honestly, with Kurt gone, he doesn’t feel much of anything.

:

Six months later, he sees Kurt on the news. He’s been pulled off of a tower, apparently, and he’s in the middle of talking to a newscaster about his experience when Blaine turns on the TV. Before he can think about it, Blaine straightens his bowtie, slips on his mask, closes his eyes, and appears by Kurt’s side. He’s still mid-interview but Blaine doesn’t care. He pulls him away from the camera and takes him to a rooftop a few miles away.

“They’re broken,” he tells Kurt frantically. “My hands, they’re broken.”

Kurt gives him a quizzical look. “Your … what?”

“I used to be able to feel you,” Blaine explains, eyes wide. “When you were in danger but now — _nothing_. You were stuck on the tower and I didn’t feel _anything_.”

Kurt looks a little guilty. “Well maybe I wasn’t exactly in danger _per se_.”

Blaine freezes mid-freakout.

“Because maybe there were hidden stairs I knew about that led down and out.”

Blaine gapes at him. “Kurt, seriously? Why in the world —”

He can’t finish his sentence, though, because he’s suddenly flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him. Kurt’s kneeling on top of him, grinning.

After a few moments, Kurt lets him stand up and then tries to throw a few punches that Blaine barely manages to dodge.

“God, Kurt, what the—”

And then he’s pinned again after some kind of high kick that hits him right in the chest and knocks him backwards.

He’s gasping for breath while Kurt hovers over him, still smiling.

“You left me here for six months,” he tells Blaine. “And I’ve been training.”

Blaine tries to control his breathing. “Training?” he asks, voice scratchy.

“Training,” Kurt repeats. “Tae Kwon Do, Jujitsu, kickboxing, you name it.”

He stares up at Kurt, silent.

“I even learned some sword fighting from a stunt trainer out here. And he just started teaching me some Chinese throwing stars, too.”

He straddles Blaine, who’s still lying on the ground with labored breathing. Kurt leans in close and says, “They can come after me, Blaine, but I can defend myself now. I’m no damsel in distress.”

Blaine watches him for a moment, pulls off his mask, then reaches up to wrap a hand around Kurt’s neck before tugging him down for a kiss.

:

Kurt’s not always safe from danger. Supervillains are sometimes a little too evil and a little too cunning and sometimes his self-defense just isn’t enough.

Sometimes Captain Bowtie barely gets to him in time.

Kurt never stops being Blaine’s weakness and Kurt never stops thinking that they’re worth it. It’s not always an easy lifetime together but still — it’s another lifetime together.

: : :

_**D** oppelganger Double (Di)vision: _

When Blaine joined the Fringe Division, he expected all kinds of weird crap: shapeshifters, mutant hybrid animals, maybe even reanimated dead people. He did not expect, however, to learn he had a doppelganger.

It’s no secret that no one really wants to work with Blaine Anderson. He’s not incredibly sociable, he’s got some anger management issues, and doesn’t really work well with others. His partners usually last a week before they quit, get fired, or die. He knows Will is getting a little pissed about the turnover rate but he can’t help it. He’s good at his job and everyone else sucks at it so he can’t be blamed for their shortcomings. He’s been trying to convince Will for months now that he’s better off working alone and he’s making progress with his mission until one day, he gets jumped by four or five weird robot things and has no backup to help him out.

It almost ends pretty badly, which Will refuses to drop.

“But it _didn’t_ ,” Blaine reminds him. “Two weeks in the hospital and I’m good as new.”

“We had to reattach two fingers, Blaine,” Will says. “That’s not good as new. I can’t lose my best agent.”

“Fine, fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I promise to give the next guy more of a chance. If you ever find one, that is.”

Will looks at him cautiously. “Funny you should mention that.”

“Seriously, already? How did you find someone _already_?” he asks. He definitely thought he’d have a few weeks to fly solo before they stuck him with another partner. “I didn’t even know we had new recruits.”

“He’s not exactly … a Fringe Department recruit,” he says. “He’s more like someone we had to go find.”

Blaine gives him a wary look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Follow me,” Will sighs.

They walk down the hall to one of the interrogation rooms and inside, they find a slender man wearing designer clothes looking bored and _no way, he cannot be serious._

“Seriously, this guy?” Blaine asks, eyes wide. “You can’t expect me to work with this guy.”

“Hey,” the guy says, sounding annoyed. “What does _that_ mean?”

Blaine ignores him. “He looks like he’d pass out just at the sight of that giant hedgehog in that containment unit downstairs. Or at that guy whose bones dissolved—”

“You have giant hedgehogs?” the guy asks, uneasy.

“See?” he says to Will. “You can’t make me do this.”

Will gestures to the chair beside the new guy and Blaine takes it begrudgingly.

“This wasn’t our ideal situation but we’re running low on options, Blaine.”

Blaine shakes his head. “And how is _this_ an option?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” the new guy hisses. “So why don’t you just — shut up.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows. “Ooh, harsh words.”

“Listen,” Will cuts in. “We had to do some digging. We went Over There.”

His jaw drops. “This guy is from the Parallel Universe?”

“It’s Kurt,” the guy grits out. “Stop calling me _this guy_.”

“No,” Will continues. “He’s a fashion designer from New York on this side. But Over There, he’s your husband.”

They’re both silent.

“Uh. What?” Blaine asks.

“The two of you,” Will says, gesturing between the two of them. “The Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel from the Parallel Universe met in high school and recently got married.”

“Married?” Kurt asks, blinking. “I’m barely twenty years old!”

Blaine glances over at Kurt and thinks for a moment. “Wow, congratulations me. I sure as hell could have done worse.”

Kurt gives him a skeptical look. “Excuse me?”

Blaine shrugs. “You might end up being the worst excuse for a Fringe Division agent but you’re definitely easy on the eyes.”

“Ugh,” Kurt says, wrinkling his nose. “I’m not working with him, Detective Schuester. A lifetime of skeevy sexual harassment? No thank you.”

Will gives him a sympathetic shrug. “Sorry, kid, the government brought you for this. They think you’re the only chance we’ve got at finding someone to work with our best agent.”

“It won’t work,” Blaine warns Will. “You’re wrong about this. You’re all wrong.”

:

They’re not wrong. Not even a little.

Within the month, they’re already on the same wavelength out in the field without even saying a word. They _fit_.

And weird things start happening to Blaine.

First he starts pulling out chairs for Kurt who originally looks annoyed but then sort of stops noticing it.

Then he starts opening car doors and the doors to the Federal Building and doors to that coffee shop they go to in the morning.

And then he finds himself rushing over to make sure Kurt’s okay after they catch the bad guy/thing or after they set him/it on fire or whatever the hell else they might do at the end of the chase. He brushes Kurt off, searches his face for any signs of injury, then helps him to his feet. At first, Kurt narrows his eyes and reminds Blaine that _I’m not helpless, okay, I can stand on my own_. But then … he stops. And he takes Blaine’s hand every single time he offers to help him up.

And _then —_ Blaine freaks the hell out and loses his damn mind the first time Kurt goes missing on a case. Kurt comes back, obviously, because he’s right, he’s _not_ helpless and he _can_ function perfectly fine on his own. He does have to make a brief visit to the hospital for a few stitches, though, and when he’s ready to leave, he sees Blaine waiting for him in the ER hallway. Blaine knows he still looks frantic and borderline insane but he just needed to _see_ him, to know with his own two eyes that Kurt is really, truly okay.

Kurt watches him from the other end of the hallway then slowly and deliberately walks over and doesn’t stop until he’s right in Blaine’s personal space. He brings his palm up to Blaine’s cheek and softly rubs his thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’m okay, you know,” Kurt whispers.

Blaine swallows and nods then tilts his head just slightly and presses a kiss to Kurt’s mouth. It doesn’t feel weird or surprising or sudden at all.

They _fit_.

:

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re in love in _both_ universes?” Kurt asks him one day from the back of an ambulance. Kurt’s got a few deep cuts from that damn chimera and Blaine needs his shoulder re-set.

“No,” Blaine answers. “I think that’s the point.”

Kurt gives him a quizzical look.

“That’s why they found you for me,” Blaine explains. “They knew it was the only way I’d be normal. I have a feeling we’re like that in all of the universes. But maybe we don’t need help in all of the other ones, maybe sometimes we find each other all by ourselves.”

“I wonder what we’re like in all of the other ones,” Kurt says, reaching over to wipe some blood off of Blaine’s temple. “I wonder if we’re the same.”

“Probably not,” Blaine tells him. “I bet I’m more of a badass in the other ones.”

Kurt laughs like maybe he totally disagrees but doesn’t argue. Instead, he climbs over to lie next to Blaine while they finish their ride to the hospital. He curls in and ignores the deep chimera cuts on his leg.

Just like every other lifetime, they _fit_.

: : :

_**E** spionage: Spy vs. Spy: _

Being a notorious world-renowned government spy is dangerous and borderline stupid because seriously, who spends their life doing shit that could get them killed or shot or tortured? But being a notorious world-renowned government spy that’s sleeping with _another_ notorious world-renowned government spy from _a rival agency_ , that’s dangerous and just borderline _suicidal_.

They’re usually assigned to the same missions which is how the whole thing started a few years ago when they were both new to the game. And it’s how it keeps continuing now, week after week, month after month.

This week, it’s Russia. There’s a folder of confidential documents about some top secret military base that Blaine’s been assigned to confiscate and he assumes Kurt will be there, too. Which he is.

Blaine raises an eyebrow at Kurt when he pauses outside the doorway of the library of government records that they’re trying to break into. “They told me you’d try to beat me here.”

Kurt gives him a disdainful look. “Try? I was here two minutes ago, Blaine, so I _did_ beat you here.”

He shrugs. “Maybe _here_ but not to the folder. That’s still up for grabs.”

“Please,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes. “Like you have any chance.” He pauses. “Lasers are off in five seconds.”

Blaine nods and looks down at his watch. “Security cameras down in three.”

And then simultaneously, the security cameras power down and the laser triggers on the floor disappear.

They stare at each other from opposite sides of the room. He knows he should make a run for it because Kurt’s more flexible than he is but Blaine’s faster. He needs any advantages he can get.

Instead, though, they run towards each other, dropping their tools as they go. In a matter of seconds, he’s got Kurt pinned up against a wall and kissing him fervently.

“Why do you have to keep wearing those pants?” he asks breathlessly. “Stop with the skintight pants already; it’s distracting.”

Kurt lets out an annoyed noise. “What did I ask you about short sleeved polos, Blaine? Your arms, they look, god — just stop wearing them; it’s too hard to focus.”

Kurt flips them around until Blaine’s back is pressed up against the wall and Kurt’s crowding into his space.

“Eight minutes,” Blaine says between heated kisses. “That’s all we have left before the cameras come back on.”

“Okay, fine,” Kurt says sounding distracted as he fumbles with Blaine’s belt.

“And it’s my turn, don’t forget.”

Kurt stops what he’s doing and raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

Blaine groans at the loss of contact. “Kurt, seven minutes, keep going.”

“It’s _your_ turn? Nice try. You got the audio tapes from the French diplomat last time.”

“No,” Blaine argues. “That was two jobs ago. The last job was for those bank statements in that Italian fraud case.”

Kurt cocks his head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Blaine says impatiently, reaching out to grab Kurt’s belt loops and pull him closer. “Six minutes.”

He’s almost embarrassed because he sounds like he’s whining but who knows how long it’ll be before they get to see each other again.

“Someday we should do this with an actual bed and without a countdown clock,” he says.

Kurt gives him an odd look because they’re just rival spies that sleep together and nothing else, no strings attached so yeah, it’s kind of a weird thing to say.

He starts fumbling with Kurt’s buttons, though, and the offhand comment is easy enough to forget as they’re trying to peel layers of clothes off each other.

The clock is ticking and they’re fully clothed again with only four seconds to spare by the time the cameras come back on. He grabs the documents while Kurt stands there watching and Blaine waits for the camera to rotate away before leaning in to give Kurt a quick kiss on the mouth. It’s something he’s never done before and Kurt looks caught off guard for a moment as Blaine climbs out the window.

“See you next time, Kurt Hummel,” he says with a wink.

:

Two weeks later, he’s in Greece to secure some leaked photos of a high ranking official in the Turkish government.

“This is getting a lot harder,” Blaine says as Kurt has him pressed against another wall.

Kurt huffs out a laugh and lets his hands trail down Blaine’s stomach, lower lower. “I must be doing something right, then.”

“Not _that_ ,” Blaine laughs. “I just mean us, this. What we’re doing. It’s getting harder to keep it a secret.”

Kurt hums a response as he pulls Blaine’s shirt over his head and it’s clear that he’s paying only partial attention to the conversation.

“And it’s your turn this time,” he continues, “so I know it’s just going to make it worse.”

Kurt starts unbuttoning his own shirt. “Worse? Why worse?”

“The teasing,” Blaine answers, toeing off his shoes. “Some of them think I let you get away with stuff because I’m incompetent.”

Kurt starts tugging on Blaine’s pants. “Uh huh,” he says, barely listening. “Five minutes.”

“But then there are the smart guys up in Surveillance Recon who know I let you get away with stuff only because I’m in love with you.”

They both freeze.

Blaine swallows, eyes wide because _what the hell_. He never for one second considered being in love with Kurt Hummel _ever_ so where in the world did that even come from?

“You what?” Kurt asks, dangerously quiet.

Blaine tries to hide his internal meltdown because shit, this is perfect material for Kurt to use to manipulate him. If he figures out that Blaine apparently has feelings for him then he’s got advantages in this game, he’s got ammunition. He has all the power.

“Nothing. What? Nothing. I said — nothing. There was nothing,” Blaine says nervously.

Kurt narrows his eyes and pulls his hands away.

“No, hey hey, come back,” Blaine tells him, reaching for his hands a little desperately. “Four minutes.”

But Kurt backs away. “You said you were in love with me.”

Blaine takes a few steps towards him, trying to close the distance that Kurt keeps creating. “It was — let’s pretend I never said anything,” he pleads. “Let’s just go back to what we were doing and we’ll — it never happened, right?”

Kurt ignores him. “Is this some kind of trick?” he asks suspiciously. “You’re trying to mess with my head?”

“What?” Blaine asks, confused. Because if anything, Kurt’s got the upper hand here.

“You’re trying to score the Turkish pictures,” he says. “Our little arrangement doesn’t work for you anymore, I’m guessing.”

“What?” Blaine asks again. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“Nice try,” Kurt says, voice low and angry. “But it didn’t work, Blaine Anderson.”

And then he’s gone before Blaine can try and process what the hell just happened.

:

They send Blaine to Spain to steal a few files about some kind of embezzlement scandal but when he gets to the safe containing the files, he sees that they’re already gone.

It’s a terrible feeling that settles low in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that Kurt was there and didn’t wait for him.

The security cameras are still down and the alarm is still deactivated so Blaine gets the message loud and clear. Kurt could have been there if he wanted; he still had time to wait for Blaine since all security was still down.

But he chose not to be.

:

Three weeks later, Blaine sees Kurt sitting at an outdoor cafe eating lunch with a friend. It’s the first time they’ve ever seen each other in real life. He’s actually even more attractive now that Blaine’s seeing him in broad daylight instead of the darkened after-hours office building lights that he’s accustomed to by now.

He walks right up to Kurt without even thinking it through.

“Hey,” he says.

Kurt glances up and meets Blaine’s eyes momentarily before looking back towards the girl across his table. “Hello.”

The girl glances between them. “Do you two know each other?”

“No,” Kurt tells her immediately.

“So I’m in love with you,” Blaine says. “There’s no game, no tricks, no motive. It’s just… true.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and the girl whispers, “You don’t know him but he’s in love with you?”

“I took an indefinite leave of absence,” Blaine continues. “So this has nothing to do with anything that you might think it does.”

Kurt looks up, clearly surprised.

“If you ever decide that, I don’t know, you want to be with me or you want to give us a try or see what could happen or — whatever you want. You can call me. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

He gives Kurt a small smile before walking away.

He’s two blocks up when he feels a hand on his shoulder, Kurt tugging at him to stop.

“Of course I want to be with you, Blaine,” Kurt tells him. “You have to have known this whole time how I feel about you.”

Blaine blinks. “I … have not. No.”

Kurt gives him a dubious look. “You’re not serious.”

“I actually am,” Blaine says hesitantly. “How exactly is that you feel about me?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Wow, you can crack a code to top secret vaults and break into high security buildings but you can’t tell that I’m in love with you?”

Blaine smiles at the words then gives him a rueful smile. “It’s probably those pants, Kurt. I told you they’re distracting.”

They stare at each other in the middle of a busy city sidewalk until Kurt breaks the silence. “You said something once about having a bed and no timetable?”

:

As they lie naked in bed, Kurt props his chin on Blaine’s chest to look up at him. “So I heard about this place in the Cayman Islands,” he tells Blaine. “There are a _lot_ of rich guys with a _lot_ of shady schemes storing a _lot_ of their money in this place.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I told you, I’m done with the spy stuff, I’m out of the game.”

“No but this wouldn’t be governmental spy stuff,” Kurt says. “This is just like, actual stealing, plain and simple.”

Blaine mulls it over. “Okay, so like a steal from the rich and give to the poor Robin Hood type of thing? I’m listening.”

Kurt gives him an incredulous look. “Uh, no. I was thinking more like steal from the rich and buy us a house in Prague type of thing. Or Naples. Or both.”

Blaine’s already smiling and planning out some strategies in his head.

“And then there’s that French museum that’s just a smokescreen for a drug-money laundering business. We could steal a few of those paintings easy, Blaine. And I’ve been hearing some talk about an underground vault for a few Middle East oil tycoons, there’s probably a ton of money we —”

“Whoa whoa, calm down,” Blaine laughs. “Let’s plan one job at a time.”

Kurt smiles up at him, chin still resting comfortably on Blaine’s chest. “You’re right, no rush. We’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of us.”

: : :

_**F** rankly, My Dear: _

The first time he meets Kurt Hummel, they’re both glorified extras in one of those epic disaster films that ends with a handful of people surviving some environmental catastrophe. Neither he nor Kurt are all that big in the industry yet, though, so their characters are definitely not part of that handful. In the four months of filming, Kurt never gives him the time of day. Blaine wants to be insulted by it but he sees early on that Kurt doesn’t give _any_ one the time of day.

After his last day on set, just as he’s about to head for the doors, he stops by Kurt’s chair. He’s reading a book in between takes and doesn’t glance up until Blaine says, “Hey, I heard about your thing on Broadway.”

Kurt looks up, startled. He doesn’t say anything.

“So, um,” Blaine starts. “I just wanted to say … congratulations.”

“Oh,” Kurt replies. “Thank you.”

Then he’s back to his book as if Blaine never said a word at all.

For an entire year, it’s the only conversation they ever have.

Two weeks later, Blaine sees a photo of an unsmiling Kurt in the latest issue of _People_ with an inset picture showing a guy that Blaine’s pretty sure played Bodyguard Number Five in their movie. It’s a grainy photo but it’s still obvious that Bodyguard Number Five is kissing someone pretty passionately in a club. He glances over to the article that informs the readers that fan-favorite Kurt Hummel and his beau of three months have officially split.

“I didn’t even know they were dating,” Blaine says quietly to himself.

Rachel, the first friend Blaine ever made when he moved out to L.A., peers over his shoulder. “Of course they were,” she says. “Kurt has a new boyfriend every time he starts a movie.”

He looks over to her. “What? Really? How do you know that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Blaine, do you know _nothing_ about your co-stars? You should really do research before you—”

“Rachel,” he interrupts to reel her back in.

“Everyone knows that about him,” she explains. “He may be the most enigmatic B-list celebrity of our generation but people still know _that_.”

Blaine didn’t but she’s right, he doesn’t know much about Kurt at all. Blaine has a feeling that no one really does.

:

Six months later, there’s another picture in a trashy supermarket tabloid with Kurt and another buff blond. The article tells him that two weeks ago, the buff blond was playing Angry Pet Store Shopper but since dating Kurt, he became the new face of Gucci. Apparently, two days after the Gucci announcement, Angry Pet Store Shopper bailed on Kurt to explore his new-found celebrity while Kurt just ended up as another cover story.

:

Another six months go by. Blaine’s coming out of a studio after an excruciatingly long Late Night TV interview when he runs into Kurt — literally.

He grabs Kurt’s wrist as he starts to fall back and somehow manages to keep them both upright. “I’m so sorry,” he tells Kurt. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt says with a small crooked smile. “We’re both fine.”

Blaine opens his mouth to say something but before he can, a muscular blond comes out of nowhere. “You coming, babe?” he asks Kurt.

Blaine stares at him until he figures out where he knows him from. He’s the actor whose character like, melts to death in the first five minutes of the latest horror movie that no one can shut up about.

“Coming,” Kurt answers as he heads away. Blaine stares after them and Kurt turns to give him another crooked smile over his shoulder.

Three weeks after that, Kurt’s in another gossip magazine and Horror Movie Melted Guy is apparently sleeping with a famous unnamed director.

:

Blaine gets his big break when he lands the part of Rhett Butler in the elaborate, incredibly expensive re-boot of _Gone With the Wind._ He wrongfully assumes his life couldn’t possibly get better because a few weeks before filming, his agent gives him tips about how to work with Santana Lopez, the notoriously difficult actress cast as his Scarlett O’Hara before giving him advice about working with Kurt Hummel, the up-and-coming star that no one can really figure out.

“Kurt Hummel?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “I’ll be filming with Kurt Hummel?”

“Fifth billed,” she says before moving on to some contract specifics that he totally doesn’t care about. He’ll be working with _Kurt Hummel_. Soon, he’ll be able to say he knows Kurt Hummel, really really _knows_ him.

:

Blaine figures out quite quickly that _no one_ knows Kurt Hummel. No matter how friendly Blaine is or how many times he invites him to eat with the cast, Kurt never cracks. He’s not _mean_ , per se. Or even snotty and condescending. He’s just … different. He’s quiet and sticks to himself, manages to be alone even when surrounded by hundred of extras.

Blaine watches him a lot. It sort of becomes a hobby. And it’s the reason he’s able to see — from start to finish — exactly how it is that Kurt ends up with a new boyfriend during every film.

There’s a guy that starts hanging around him. He’s tall and bulky and blond and basically a look-alike for every other guy Blaine’s seen pictured with Kurt. He assumes he’s a crew member or P.A. at first because he’s always bringing Kurt coffee or danishes or the latest Vogue. In the beginning, Kurt’s pretty immune to it, only thanking the guy politely or offering a tightlipped smile. As the filming goes on and the weeks fly by, Blaine watches Kurt’s resolve slowly start to crumble. He starts making eye contact more, has conversations that last a few minutes more than his standard _thank you_ , and one day he doesn’t jolt away when the guy starts to give him a backrub.

Kurt’s not really around in between takes after that day and Blaine’s sort of preoccupied with how much that bothers him. He wonders if they’re already sleeping together and he hates the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he sees the two of them at craft services smiling over a plate of cheesecake.

And then a month later, Kurt’s suddenly back in his chair between takes, staring absently at the empty set with no buff blond in sight. After a week, Blaine can’t take the distant look in his eyes anymore and goes to join him.

“You okay?” he says to Kurt quietly.

Kurt looks over and it takes him a few seconds to realize someone is talking to him. “Sorry? Oh. Yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t _look_ fine,” Blaine insists with a sympathetic smile.

He returns it with a sad smile of his own. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” he says back, cocking an eyebrow. “That wasn’t very convincing.”

And Kurt actually gives him a small laugh. “I promise. I’ll be fine.”

Blaine shrugs. “Sorry but that’s not enough for me.”

Kurt watches him carefully. “Oh? And what would be enough?”

“Margaritas,” he answers. “It’s Tuesday dollar margarita night.”

Kurt shuts down almost immediately. “No, thank you.”

Blaine doesn’t push it in case he goes too far too fast. But he asks the following Tuesday. And the one after that. And another.

Finally, a month later, Kurt gives him a hesitant look instead of his normal shutdown. “I don’t know, Blaine.”

Blaine’s so surprised that he almost chokes on his sandwich. “Seriously, it’ll be so much fun. You won’t be disappointed.” 

Kurt eventually says no and then there’s another no the week after that and then again the following week but Blaine is unnaturally undeterred until he finally gets Kurt sitting across from him in a battered booth over a chipped and stained table. They talk for two hours. Not about anything important or personal but still … he’s talking to Kurt Hummel and he spends the next week almost buzzing from the adrenaline of it.

It becomes a Tuesday thing. Their hands sometimes touch when they reach for the same chip. Every once in awhile, Blaine steals a piece of shrimp from Kurt’s plate and thrills when he sees Kurt smile and shake his head. They start talking about real things like Kurt’s brother and Blaine’s crappy middle school years.

They’re not inseparable on set by any means but everyone can sense something’s shifted. Kurt smiles at him and Blaine remembers his coffee order and they become _friends_.

One Tuesday, they start talking about the important stuff. “Sometimes I hate this movie,” Blaine admits.

Kurt looks surprised.

“Not working on it!” Blaine clarifies. “Just the characters _in_ it. Some of them are plain awful.”

Kurt’s quiet for a few moments. “I think that’s what makes it so powerful. It’s not a happy film; love doesn’t always end well. Sometimes it just … ends.”

Blaine watches him. “Like sometimes you love people that don’t love you back.”

Kurt returns his gaze and they don’t break eye contact. “And sometimes people pretend to love you just to get something they want.”

Blaine knows that they’re talking about the characters but he also wonders if maybe they’re _not_.

Kurt sighs. “I know what I must look like to you. The men I date, how it always seems to end with me on the cover of _Star_ magazine. You probably think I look pathetic.”

“That’s the last thing I think about you,” he says quietly. “I think you’re incredible. And I think you deserve so much better.”

He gives Blaine a sardonic smile before looking away. “I always think _this is it, he could be the one_. They always spend so much time chasing after me that it’s hard not to fall for it.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Kurt,” Blaine says, wanting to reach for Kurt’s hand but knowing he’d probably pull away if he did.

“It’s a weakness,” Kurt continues. “They’re my weakness.”

Blaine sits back in his chair and can’t help but feel defeated. “Blond guys in muscle shirts that cheat on you?” The words sound harsher than he means them but Kurt doesn’t look offended.

“Hopeless romantics,” he explains. “I keep thinking I’ve found one but it turns out they’re just really good at faking it.”

Blaine sighs. “Well, my weakness is just as bad, if it makes you feel any better.”

Kurt meets his eyes again and actually looks amused. “Oh?”

“Men who don’t love me back,” Blaine says dramatically as if it might take away a bit of the sting. “Pretentious indie film directors that won’t go with me to the Golden Globes because it’s _too Hollywood_ or closeted guys that swear they’re ready to come out but then bail on me and I’m forced to go to the Tony Awards alone or guys that think I’m _too nice_ for the image they’re aiming for and decide to take a half-naked male model to the Grammy’s instead of me.”

“So what you’re saying is that all you actually want is someone to go with you to an awards show,” Kurt teases.

“I want someone to be proud to be with me,” Blaine says softly. Kurt’s smile fades when he hears the seriousness in Blaine’s voice. “Proud enough to be seen with me.”

Their check comes then and the mood is broken.

:

The evening the cast wraps on their last day, Blaine waits for Kurt outside of his trailer.

“So,” he starts awkwardly. “We’re still going to see each other, right? Maybe meet for Tuesday margaritas if we can?”

Kurt hesitates. “Blaine…” he trails off.

Blaine’s stomach drops. “Wait, seriously? That’s it?”

Kurt looks away.

“So you’re done with me?”

“That’s not how it is,” Kurt says quietly.

“It _is_ ,” Blaine argues, frustrated. “You’re treating me like all those guys you date. Once the movie is over, you’re done and you move on.”

Kurt narrows his eyes. “Nice try, Blaine, but you know _exactly_ what happens when I finish a film. Hint: my face plastered on a celebrity tabloid. It ends with me trying to pretend I don’t feel as heartbroken as I do when yet another guy that I thought was oh so charming abandons me for something bigger and better.”

Blaine’s almost speechless for a moment. “You think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know what you’d do, Blaine. I just know what everyone _else_ has done.”

“That’s not fair,” he whispers. “You won’t even give me a chance?”

“A chance for _what_?” he asks, irritated. “Look, I don’t want to ruin the friendship we had by trying to pretend that we could keep it going. Let’s just remember it for what it was.”

Kurt stares at him for a moment before turning on his heel and walking away from his trailer, from this movie, from the past six months. From Blaine.

:

They don’t speak for almost a year until they see each other at the Oscars. Blaine wins Best Male Actor and no one is surprised. Kurt sits a few seats over with the rest of the cast but Blaine doesn’t chance a look as he gets up to accept his award.

He thanks everyone that he knows he should and desperately hopes he didn’t leave an agent or PR rep off of his list. Then he pauses.

“Playing this character wasn’t always easy,” he starts with a smile. “I spent six months playing a character that’s really in love with someone that doesn’t love him back. Sort of weighs on your ego.”

The crowd laughs.

“So I’d like to thank all the guys that never loved me back when I was younger. There’s a long list, starting with Johnnie back in second grade.”

They laugh again.

“You guys really helped me get into character so this is for you,” he says, holding his statue in the air. He swallows thickly as his smile fades. “And for the man I’m in love with _now_ that doesn’t love me back —”

He finds Kurt’s face in the crowds and hold eye contact.

“— this is for you, too, Kurt.”

The music swells up just then, hinting at him to wrap it up, so he books it off stage before he has a chance to gauge anyone’s reaction.

He’s too wired to go back to his seat or to see Kurt now that it’s all out in the open and on national TV. Kurt finds him anyway, though. They stand and face each other in an empty hallway backstage.

“Is that true?” he asks cautiously.

He gives Kurt a sad smile. “Of course it’s true.”

He takes a few steps towards Blaine. “Well then I’m sorry to say that you’ll need to find your inspiration for unrequited love elsewhere,” he says. “Because that man most certainly loves you back.”

Blaine’s heart jumps. “He does?”

There’s suddenly a lot of noise and Blaine realizes that the show must be over. People start streaming out of the hall and they get swarmed.

Kurt reaches out and pulls him closer. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Blaine asks, still breathless.

Kurt smiles. “The after-party red carpet, obviously. I want to show you off. To show everyone how proud I am to be with you.”

The red carpet is where it all begins: their first kiss, the epic paparazzi freakout and the whole start of a lifetime.

: : :

_**G** od of Love, He’s a Real Straight Shooter: _

Being a god of love is Blaine’s dream job. It’s been his _only_ job, obviously, since you sort of get born into the life of a deity but still, it’s amazing and he loves it. It’s way better than some of the other crap ones. God of Sleep? Lame. God of the Underworld? Ugh, awful.

It’s not necessarily the coolest one, though. His best friend is the God of Chaos which might not be the nicest of things to be but it sure is interesting. Kurt usually has a few hours worth of stories everyday to tell Blaine about all the crazy crap he started. Then Blaine just tells him who he made fall in love. Less exciting maybe, but probably more satisfying.

He could probably listen to Kurt talk for the rest of their lives and they’re immortal so that’s saying something. They’re best friends and Blaine hopes they stay that way forever.

“So listen to _today’s_ drama,” Kurt starts as he joins Blaine at their hidden spot halfway down Mount Olympus. “I almost started a war with Italy.”

Blaine shakes his head to himself, unable to keep the smile off of his face. He listens for the next two hours, totally absorbed with every sentence Kurt speaks.

“I made those two teachers fall in love,” Blaine tells him when Kurt’s finished with his story about the wine-induced brawl he started.

“Really?” Kurt says, lying his head in Blaine’s lap. “That’s been a long time coming.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I’m glad to be done with that one.”

Kurt glances up at him. “Wait, wasn’t he already with that awful woman? The one he’s been with for years?”

Blaine shrugs. “Well, he _was_.”

Kurt laughs. “I’m impressed. I must be rubbing off on you, staring a love triangle like that.”

“No,” he argues. “Rules are rules. I get the assignment, I follow through.”

Kurt hums a response, apparently losing interest.

Blaine’s already pumped for his next assignment.

:

He’s speechless when he gets it the next morning. He doesn’t know how to process seeing _Kurt Hummel_ _and Adam Crawford_ on his slip of paper.

Blaine tries to push his shock and surprise away because really, Kurt deserves happiness. He deserves love and companionship and intimacy and all of the things that come with the arrows Blaine lets loose. And of course, of _course_ it would be Adam, the God of Music and Arts. Or as Blaine likes to think of him, the God of Everything Good Ever. He gets music and healing and poetry and athleticism and manly beauty and _seriously_ , could they not have split a few of those things up to maybe spread them around?

Blaine sighs, steels himself, and tries to prepare for his assignment, not really able to figure out why he’s dreading it so much.

“New assignment today?” Kurt asks, taking a seat next to Blaine on the grass and startling him from his thoughts.

Blaine smiles weakly. “You know I’m not allowed to talk about it until it’s done.”

“I know,” he says with a shrug. “Can’t wait to hear all about it later.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes until Kurt heads down the mountain to do whatever it is he does, start a war or get a teenager in trouble or fall in love with _Adam Crawford._

Blaine is pretty shocked at the undisguised resentment lurking around his thoughts. He can’t figure out what the hell the big deal is.

He follows Kurt down a few hours later and finds him easily in the middle of town orchestrating some fight between a guy and his best friend. Blaine keeps his distance, stays out of sight, and lets the invisible arrow fly. There’s no way Kurt can feel the arrow hit him because that’s just not possible, but for some reason he looks up and over his shoulder, a little confused. Blaine leans out of view behind a tree and Kurt seems to shrug it off after a few moments.

Blaine climbs back up the mountain, mood shifted from bitter and resentful to inexplicably resigned and depressed.

:

Instead of going to look for Adam which he should obviously be doing, he heads to their secret spot and hides there for a few hours. For some reason he just can’t convince himself to finish this job.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he says to himself.

“Tomorrow what?” Kurt asks from somewhere behind Blaine as he walks up to join him.

Blaine jumps. “I didn’t know you were up here. A bit early to be back, isn’t it?”

“Had a long day. I need some relaxation.” He launches into his stories about hiding some woman’s jewelry and locking some people out of their houses while Blaine listens raptly. “And your day? Who was today’s assignment?”

Blaine gives him a weak smile. “Didn’t finish it yet.”

“Another difficult one?” he asks, settling back on his elbows. His toga shifts and Blaine’s eyes are drawn to the expanse of skin suddenly showing. His eyes dart away when he realizes what he’s doing.

“It shouldn’t have been,” Blaine answers. “I just don’t want to.”

Kurt frowns. “I’ve never heard you say that before.”

He shrugs. He definitely doesn’t want to talk about it and wouldn’t be allowed even if he did.

“Blaine?” Kurt asks quietly, voice concerned. “Are you okay? You usually love your job.”

He meets Kurt’s gaze. “Not this time.”

Kurt waits patiently.

“It’s you,” Blaine rushes out which he is _so not allowed to do_.

Kurt blinks. “Me?”

Blaine nods. “And Adam.”

He jolts upright. “Don’t do that,” Kurt says immediately, sounding panicked.

“What?” he asks, confused. “Why?”

“Just don’t.”

Blaine eyes him quizzically. “I have to. It’s the assignment.”

“Don’t,” Kurt says with wide eyes, shaking his head.

“Kurt—”

“I’m already in love,” he explains. “I don’t need an arrow.”

Blaine’s feels his heart plummet. “You are?” he whispers. “You never told me about him.”

“Not with Adam,” he continues, watching Blaine carefully. “With you.”

Blaine gapes at him for a moment before it suddenly clicks. They’re in _love;_ that’s why they feel so right, so connected. He feels like the worst God of Love ever to not realize how in love he already _is._

Still though, his heart is still somewhere in the pit of his stomach. “Kurt,” he starts sadly. “I have to finish it. I already shot you. I can’t leave it unfinished.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, thinking. “Does it have to be Adam?”

Blaine blinks then starts to smile. “I’d be breaking the rules.”

“Would it be worth it?” Kurt asks, voice nervous like he actually thinks Blaine would choose following some assignment rules over a lifetime with Kurt and getting to love him forever.

He gives Kurt one last smile before grabbing his second invisible arrow and harshly poking himself right in the thigh.

A shallow, invisible puncture wound, that’s how that lifetime starts.

: : :

_**H** ere on Gilligan’s Isle: _

Blaine Anderson is a writer from Los Angeles. Kurt Hummel is a an interior designer from Boston. Until that fateful plane ride across the Pacific, they have nothing in common.

And then the plane crashes.

:

Somehow they both wind up in an inflatable raft, just the two of them, with no idea how they got there, both semi-unconscious until the raft suddenly stops moving Blaine is the first to come back to reality, peering out over the raft to see nothing but sand in all directions except for behind him, obviously, which is just water in all directions. He looks down, surprised to see company with him in the raft. The guy is probably about his age but with fair skin and lighter hair. Blaine nudges at his shoulder and hopes he’s just passed out and not comatose. Or you know, _dead._

The guy stirs eventually and tries to back away with wide eyes when he sees a random sopping wet stranger staring down at him.

“Who the—”

“Blaine,” he says quickly.

“Blaine,” the guy says slowly. “And why are you hovering over me?” He looks around finally. “And why are we soaking wet? In an inflatable raft?”

Blaine raises an eyebrow and waits for him to connect the dots.

“Oh god,” he says. “Our plane crashed, didn’t it?”

“I think so,” Blaine answers. “But it’s just you and me out here so I can’t really confirm that with anyone else.”

“Just you and I?” the guys repeats, finally sitting up to peer out of their raft. Blaine watches as he takes it all in, the wide expanse of sand, sand, sand. “This… is not good.”

“No,” Blaine says. “It’s really not.”

:

“First things first,” the guy says as they climb out of the raft. “Shelter. We need to find somewhere to stay. Or sleep. Or — I don’t know, but I need to get out of this sun. It does terrible things to my skin.”

Blaine gives him a skeptical look. “Your _sunburn_?” he asks. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

The guy ignores him and tries to tug at their raft. “Here, help me pull this thing out of the water.”

“ _Please_ ,” Blaine tells him. “Just because we’re alone on a deserted island doesn’t mean we need to forget our manners.”

The guy sighs. “Please, then,” he says.

Satisfied, Blaine helps him tug it out. “I don’t even know your name,” he says to the guy.

“It’s Kurt,” he tells him. “But let’s save the _how do you do_ 's for later?”

Blaine shakes his head to himself. Go figure he gets stranded on an island with guy that has an attitude problem.

So they start walking.

They pull the raft behind them for a good hour before they finally see something other than sand in the distance. They squint and try to make out what it is.

“Trees, maybe?” Kurt says.

“Maybe,” Blaine replies. “It’s hard to tell. Do you think we should keep going towards it? What if it’s dangerous?”

Kurt thinks for a moment. “Well, it can’t be any more dangerous than out here. If we stay in the sun, we’ll both get dehydrated and there goes any chance of survival.”

So they keep walking. On that first day, there is a lot of walking.

After another hour, they make their way up to the trees but don’t go too far in.

“Maybe we should wait until morning to check out the jungle,” Kurt says, the first sign of fear tinging his voice.

“Okay,” Blaine agrees. “Let’s find some branches or something and prop up our raft.”

By nightfall, they have a pretty impressive fort made up of the tree branches, the raft, and a bed of leaves.

“Shelter,” Blaine says with a smile. “Step one.”

:

They wake up freezing in the night.

“We need to build a fire,” Kurt tells him as he shifts closer.

“We need to _learn_ how to build a fire,” Blaine clarifies. “Because I’m betting neither one of us were Boy Scouts.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything.

“In the meantime,” Blaine says cautiously, “we could, you know, use each other for body heat.”

Kurt shifts closer immediately, obviously already having come to that conclusion on his own.

The next day, they work tirelessly trying to create a fire.

“They make this look a lot easier on TV, don’t they?” Kurt says irritably. It’s been four hours and still nothing.

Blaine shares his annoyance. “Totally. Thanks a lot, Hollywood.”

By dinner time, when they still haven’t made much progress, Blaine debates the health benefits of eating some leaves.

“I’m starving,” he says.

“Me, too,” Kurt agrees, staring at those same leaves.

So for dinner, they eat leaves.

After dinner, they finally have some luck rubbing together sticks at just the right angle and finally, finally, they have fire. They’re so excited that they jump up to celebrate and for some reason, Kurt grabs Blaine’s face to pull him in for a kiss.

They both freeze after a few moments and watch each other.

“Why not?” Blaine says with a shrug, pulling Kurt back in. They break apart after a few moments, though, just to make sure they don’t let the fire go out.

“Fire,” Kurt says as they lie under their raft that night, his head on Blaine’s chest. “Step two.”

:

“We’re not going to hold out much longer without water,” Kurt tells him the next morning.

Blaine nods and stares into the jungle that they haven’t braved yet. They set out early in the morning and Blaine’s so hungry that even the bugs on the jungle bed floor look appetizing. By mid-afternoon, they find a small clearing and in the middle, a small pool of what Blaine desperately hopes isn’t salt water.

When they try their first few sips to find out that it’s actual fresh water, actual real water that they haven’t had for days, they’re both so excited that Kurt pulls him in for a kiss again. Okay, apparently this is a thing they’re doing now, Blaine realizes. Although he’s not exactly complaining.

“Water,” Blaine says in between sips. “Glorious water. Step three.”

:

The water leads them to food and not a moment too soon because leaves stopped being good about two seconds after they ate their first one.

They find what look like coconuts hanging from a few of the trees and something that might be sort of possibly bananas from another clearing.

A week later and after a ridiculous amount of time trying, Blaine catches his first fish. They’re both quasi-horrified as they try to cook it over a fire because ugh, fish is so much less appetizing when it has eyes and scales, when it isn’t wrapped up nicely in some rice with a side dish of soy sauce.

But they know their alternative is a leaf, so.

“Food,” Kurt sighs, as they sit in front of the fire late at night. “Step four.”

:

They sleep in late the next morning. “Do we have any other steps?” Blaine wonders aloud, curling into Kurt. “We have the essentials, right? Shelter, fire, food and water. Do we need anything else to survive here?”

“I don’t think so,” Kurt answers quietly.

They manage to fall asleep again after that, finally able to relax now that they’ve sort of got things under control.

And that’s how it works for the next few weeks. For being stranded alone on an island, they’re actually doing pretty well.

But then one morning during one of their food runs, Kurt disappears. Blaine heads out to grab some fish and Kurt makes his way to the clearing to grab some fruit and by lunch time, he’s still not back. Or by mid-afternoon. Or by dinner time.

So Blaine freaks the hell out.

He runs to the clearing, calling Kurt’s name the whole way through the jungle. He doesn’t care if some kind of animal comes after him because no way is he living on this island without Kurt. Screw food and fire, if Kurt’s not around then Blaine knows he won’t survive.

Two hours later, as he’s still running around the jungle with absolutely no clue where he is, voice hoarse from hours of calling Kurt’s name, he finally hears a noise off in the distance. He runs closer and closer until he can hear it clearer.

And it’s Kurt. He’s calling Blaine’s name and sounds borderline hysterical.

Blaine calls back for him and within minutes, Kurt’s rushing into his arms, shaking. “I thought — I got lost and couldn’t find my way back and I thought —”

“It’s okay,” Blaine says soothingly, holding Kurt tightly and trying to steady his own nerves.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Kurt finishes. “It was awful, Blaine. Thinking I would be alone here without you.”

“I know,” he says. “I was freaking out, too.”

Kurt pulls back to look Blaine in the eye. “I think I’m in love with you,” he tells him. “And not just because we’re here. If we make it off this island, I think I’ll be in love with you out there, too.”

Blaine isn’t sure what to say. He swallows thickly and pulls Kurt back towards him.

Blaine clings tightly that night like maybe he thinks Kurt will disappear again if he lets go.

:

Thirteen months to the day of their plane crash, they’re rescued by a passing Japanese liner. They’re taken to the hospital for monitoring and their families fly out to meet them. Kurt’s gone before Blaine’s even discharged from the hospital.

So much for Kurt loving him after they made it off the island, Blaine thinks to himself.

:

He has to rent a new apartment when he gets back to L.A. since his former landlord assumed Blaine just bailed on him. He has to buy new furniture and new clothes and basically reforge a new life.

He thinks about Kurt a lot and wonders if he’s forging a new life back in Boston.

A week after his return home, there’s a knock on the door of Blaine’s new apartment and when he opens it, he finds himself face to face with Kurt Hummel.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Kurt says immediately, body tense. “And I don’t want to be alone here without you.”

Blaine stares at him. “I don’t want to be alone without you, either,” he says after several seconds.

Kurt sighs with relief and his whole body relaxes.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Blaine asks suddenly.

Kurt frowns. “Like where?”

“I don’t know,” he answers with a shrug. “But this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

“Okay,” Kurt says quietly with a smile. “So let’s find a place that does.”

Blaine looks at him hesitantly. “I don’t even know where we’d start.”

“Does it matter?” Kurt asks. “We have a whole lifetime to find it.”

: : :

_**I** t’s Raining Men: _

It’s not a good day for Blaine the day he gets cast out of Heaven and officially becomes a fallen angel. He freefalls for what seems like days then suddenly, he’s flat on his back in a field somewhere in central Canada, staring up at the sky. He tries to catch his breath as he watches the stars and thinks, _this is not a good day_.

He looks over to see Kurt Hummel also flat on his back just a few feet away.

Okay, so it’s not a _horrible_ day then.

He tries to push that thought from his mind because it’s that sort of crap that got him cast down here in the first place.

Kurt looks over, breathing heavy. “Oh,” he says. “You’re here, too.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, chest still heaving. “I am.”

“So what did _you_ do?” Kurt asks.

Blaine mulls that over and decides evasion is his best tactic. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Kurt moves to stand up and tests out his legs. “Fair enough.”

“You?” Blaine asks.

Kurt laughs to himself. “I better not say.”

Blaine frowns to himself wondering what _that’s_ supposed to mean. He stares up at the stars again and thinks, _Why, God, why?_ It has to be a test, he’s sure of it. Why would God kick him out of Heaven for being in love with Kurt Hummel and then cast Kurt down there with him? It’s a trick or a game or a test — and not one he’s going to fail, not this time around.

Suddenly, Kurt’s hovering over him and holding out a hand to help Blaine up. “Come on, handsome,” he says, smiling that same smile he’s _always_ got for Blaine and—

Shit, he’s totally going to fail whatever test God is giving him.

:

“So,” Kurt starts as they walk along some back roads hopefully towards Canadian civilization. “What do you want to do first?”

“Do fir — what?”

“You know, Europe, Disneyland, San Diego Zoo, any of those?”

Blaine looks at him quizzically. “Don’t we have to like, get jobs now?”

Kurt looks insulted. “We’re _angels_ , Blaine,” he says. “We don’t do jobs.”

“We’re _fallen_ angels,” Blaine points out. “Which is a pretty important distinction.”

“We don’t need jobs,” he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, really?” Blaine asks. “How are we going to get to those places, Kurt? Because transportation isn’t free and telling a bus driver _Oh no, it’s cool, we’re angels, we don’t use cash_ is going to get us thrown into a mental institution.”

Kurt doesn’t have a reply.

:

When they get to the nearest city, they grab applications for a part-time job at a few fast food restaurants. It proves to be a bit more challenging than Blaine was expecting.

“What’s a Social Insurance Number?” he asks Kurt quietly.

Kurt isn’t paying attention. “Who are you putting down for references? What are we supposed to write for Educational History? Are we just making up a high school?”

Blaine’s chewing on his pen nervously. “What should we use for an address? _Behind the Tim Horton’s dumpster_ doesn’t feel like a good response.”

“We need to think of an appropriate date of birth,” Kurt whispers.

They look at each other helplessly. Then throw the applications away.

:

Blaine finds a guitar in somewhat salvageable condition in one of the dumpsters a few days later. They set up on a corner and play to the passersby for a bit of spare change. Well, Blaine plays and Kurt sits next to him, smiling and waving and working the crowd and just generally getting all the attention. It drives Blaine a little crazy — not in the _I’m doing all the work and he’s getting all the credit_ kind of way but in the _I did not fall from grace for this guy only to spend an eternity watching him get hit on._

“Move along, move along,” Blaine says as politely as possible to a guy that’s been standing in front of Kurt for a good five minutes straight.

Kurt smiles to himself as he counts some money. “Jealousy is a sin, you know,” he says with a teasing lilt, never looking up.

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Yeah and so is greed,” he says pointedly, gesturing to Kurt and their stack of bills.

:

They find a place to sleep in a back alley next to a full (yet surprisingly well-maintained) dumpster. They’re cold and hungry and basically poor but Kurt curls into him while he sleeps and balls the fabric of Blaine’s shirt in his fists and Blaine knows without a shadow of a doubt that he would fall from Heaven over and over again just for this moment.

After a few days, they have enough cash to go shopping at a thrift store for some new clothes but Blaine finds out that he’s not allowed to do any of the actual shopping. Kurt picks out what he wants Blaine to wear and Blaine himself doesn’t get much say. He doesn’t complain, though, because every new outfit has him in front of a mirror staring at himself while Kurt stands just inches away, tugging at sleeves or dusting off the fuzz or straightening his bowtie. He’s so close that Blaine’s heartbeat feels like a jackhammer and he finds himself accidentally holding his breath.

“Perfect,” Kurt whispers to himself as he watches Blaine in the mirror, his breath ghosting along the back of Blaine’s neck.

God, he would fall over and over and over again.

:

They head to a public library a week later. Blaine researches places in the area to sleep, apartments or hotels or just anything that’s not by a back alley dumpster.

He’s not having much luck when he hears Kurt inhale sharply from the computer next to him.

“This … this is not good,” he whispers.

“What isn’t?” Blaine asks quietly.

Kurt turns to face him, looking distraught. “I think — we might be stuck here, Blaine.”

Blaine frowns. Not the best news, no.

“I was looking up trains or buses or boats or planes or _anything_ and we need a passport to get out of the country.”

“Okay,” Blaine says warily. “And how do we get one?”

“We don’t,” Kurt sighs, defeated. “We need to prove we’re Canadian citizens which—”

“Which we can’t do,” Blaine fills in.

“So we’re stuck here.”

Blaine thinks for a minute. “Well are we stuck _here_ here? Like, Earth here, I mean?”

Kurt gives him a quizzical look.

“Because maybe we could figure out how to get out of _here_ here and back up into Heaven. Where we’re supposed to be anyways.”

Kurt watches him carefully. “Oh. Right. Sure, we could — yeah, let’s figure out how to do that.”

His tone is odd and he doesn’t hold Blaine’s gaze so it’s kind of weird but Blaine tries not to dwell on it.

:

They hitchhike to the next province in the back of a pick-up truck and even though they’re poor and homeless and undocumented illegal aliens, Blaine’s actually sort of enjoying himself. It’s a lot more exciting than Heaven, that’s for sure.

Their days consist of playing on street corners together and eating cheap gas station food together and sleeping next to a dumpster together and it should all be horrible but … they’re together.

“This is nice,” Blaine says one afternoon as they sit in a park.

“Nice,” Kurt echoes with a skeptical look.

He shrugs. “It’s a nice day and we’re enjoying the sun in a park.”

Kurt blinks. “Because we _live_ in the park, Blaine. Because we’re _homeless_.”

Blaine shrugs again.

“Look at us,” he sighs. “ _Look at us._ We’re going to end up on the cover of a _Just Say No to Drugs_ brochure.”

Blaine leans back on his elbows. “Well, I still think this is nice.”

They’re quiet for a few moments. “Do you ever miss it?” Kurt asks quietly. “You know, sitting on the clouds up there? It was peaceful and easy.”

Blaine doesn’t answer because saying _nah, I’d rather be homeless with you on Earth_ sounds mentally unhinged.

:

Two days later, Kurt comes out of a church with a wide smile.

“Good news,” he tells Blaine as he sits next to him on the corner. “You can go back up.”

“Back up… where?” Blaine asks.

“Heaven,” Kurt answers with an eye roll. “You just have to apologize for whatever it is you did, promise to never do it again, and you’re good.”

“Oh,” he says, a little taken aback. He didn’t _actually_ think they’d be allowed back in. Although Kurt’s word choice bothers him a bit. “Why do you keep saying _you_? Are you not coming?”

Kurt’s smile falters. “It’s a bit too late for me, sadly. I’m here for good.”

Blaine tries not to feel hurt. “You’re stuck down here and you’re trying to get me to go back up? You’d rather be alone down here than with me as company?”

Kurt’s eyes widen and he sits up straighter. “No, no. That’s not it at all. I just — I know this probably isn’t — look, I don’t want you have to spend the rest of your life in Canada.”

“I like Canada,” Blaine says defensively.

“I know,” he sighs, “but you’re poor and you’re stuck here and who knows if things will ever change for us or if we’re just going to be delinquent street beggars for the rest of our lives —”

“I don’t care,” Blaine interrupts. “I’m happy here —”

“But you _will_ care,” Kurt argues. “You were happy up there. I don’t know what happened that brought you down here but I know that you can fix it and make everything right again.”

Blaine shakes his head sadly, not able to even look at Kurt.

“But I’m not meant to be an angel,” he continues. “It’s not for me. I want to make mistakes and argue with people and fall in love and just — sitting happy on a cloud isn’t what I want to be.”

“You don’t know me if you think that’s what _I_ want to be.”

“Blaine, I—” he starts hesitantly.

“I’m here because I fell in love,” Blaine says suddenly. “That’s why I was cast out.”

Kurt blinks. “You—”

“With you. Specifically.”

His mouth falls open slightly. “Really?”

Blaine laughs sadly. “Why would I make that up?”

He stares at Blaine, wide-eyed. “I didn’t …” he trails off, not sure how to respond.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Blaine says. “But I thought you should know. If you’re going to be stuck down here with me forever, you should know.”

Kurt’s still quiet.

“Because you _are_ stuck with me,” he continues. “I’m not going back up there, not without you.”

Kurt rushes into his arms and Blaine stumbles backwards, surprised, but returns the tight hug. “I love you, too,” Kurt says softly. “They gave me a choice, either stay up there and forsake any human emotions and desires or come down here and be imperfect in an imperfect world.”

Blaine smiles slowly even though his chin rests on Kurt’s shoulder and he couldn’t see him anyway.

“And then I saw you off in the distance and I knew I’d never make it up there, not if you were always around.”

Blaine pulls back and rests his forehead against Kurt’s. “An imperfect world doesn’t sound half bad, not if you’re in it,” he says. “Even if we _are_ homeless.”

“It doesn’t,” Kurt agrees.

“So it’s settled,” Blaine whispers. “We’ll stay down here together.”

“And we’ll find something more legitimate than street beggars someday,” he says. “We will.”

Blaine hesitates. “Although one request? Maybe dial back the flirting.”

Kurt gives him an amused smile.

“Because I seriously don’t want to spend the rest of forever watching the population of Saskatchewan throw themselves at you.”

He’s still smiling. “Oh but Alberta would be fair game?”

“Kurt,” Blaine groans with an eye roll.

“Fine, fine,” he concedes. “Like I care about anyone in any of these provinces when I have an angel at my side.”

“ _Fallen_ angel,” Blaine points out. “There’s a difference.”

“Yes,” Kurt says, voice almost shy. “That’s my favorite kind.”

:

Sometimes they find under-the-table jobs for under-the-table cash, sometimes they still sleep behind dumpsters, sometimes they sit in the park because they have nowhere else to go. It’s a lifetime of choice, though, where they choose each other every single day in every possible way.

: : :

_**J** ailbait: _

It’s not until his second year as a college professor that it happens. After making it through four years working towards his Bachelor’s, two more years for his Master’s, another three going for his doctorate, a year of post-doctoral research, and three semesters as a full time college professor, after all of that, it finally happens. It’s when he becomes the biggest cliché _ever_ , when he becomes the type of teacher that colleagues laugh at, the type of teacher they make Lifetime Original Movies about.

Blaine becomes the college professor that falls for a student. And he falls _hard._

His name is Kurt Hummel and he looks like a model straight out of a magazine photo shoot. Why he’s taking Blaine’s Intro to European History, he hasn’t been able to figure out yet.

He’s not the first student to blatantly hit on Blaine and to flirt in really _really_ obvious ways, not by a long shot. He just happens to be the very first one that makes Blaine think, _I wonder what’ll happen if I flirt back._

Kurt waits until a full month into the class before he makes his first move on Blaine which is probably some sort of record. The room’s cleared out and Blaine’s just finishing putting the last few papers into his satchel when he looks up and startles, surprised to see someone still in the room.

“Oh. Hi,” Blaine says. “I didn’t know anyone was still here. Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you.”

Kurt shrugs and smiles. “It’s fine. It’s not like watching you and waiting doesn’t have its perks.”

Blaine blinks. “Uh. Right.” This is always the awkward part, trying to navigate through the come-ons and pick-up lines to find out what the student _actually_ needs. “Something I can help you with?”

“I’m Kurt,” he says simply.

“Hummel,” Blaine fills in. “I know.”

Kurt gives him a surprised look. “Oh, I just — it’s a big class.”

It’s a _huge_ class and Blaine immediately tries to backtrack. “I have a good memory,” he says after a few moments. And no, no he does not. He knows the names of a few girls that are also in some of his other courses, he knows the kid’s name that sits in the back and falls asleep ten minutes into the lecture everyday, he knows the name of the guy that draws cartoons on quizzes in lieu of like, actual answers, and he knows the guy that walks into the lecture hall with the perfectly styled hair, painted on jeans, and tight, tailored button up shirts in a myriad of colors, always matched up with a pin of a rhino head or a pair of miniature scissors.

“Ah,” Kurt says. “You know, I’m not surprised it’s such a big class. I had more that one friend recommend it solely because the professor was easy on the eyes, you know.”

Blaine blinks again. He’s been hit on, sure, but never this overtly. “You’re not seriously hitting on your professor, right?”

Kurt smiles and ignores him. “I’ve heard good things about the actual class, too,” he says. “From dozens of people. They say that it’s an interesting course and that you teach it well.”

Blaine looks skeptical. “I’ve only been teaching here for a year and a half. How can you know dozens of people that have already taken my class?”

Again, Kurt ignores him. “A year and a half?” he asks, suddenly way more invested in the conversation. “So with your undergrad degree, your masters and graduate programs, I’m guessing that puts you at thirty years old?”

“Twenty-nine,” Blaine answers without thinking.

Kurt hums his approval and gives him a flirty grin. “Well this is my sixth year here, Dr. Anderson. Which puts me at twenty-four, in case you were wondering.”

Blaine stares at him, still totally caught off guard by this entire conversation. “No, what I was wondering was what I could help you with. I’m assuming you have a question about class material, Mr. Hummel?”

“No,” he says, still smiling. He doesn’t offer any other information.

Blaine watches him for a few moments. “Well then if you’ll excuse me, I have another class at the other end of campus. Because I’m a _professor_ ,” he says pointedly.

Kurt lets out a breathy laugh and heads towards the doors. Blaine is definitely embarrassed at how long he spends watching Kurt walk away.

:

A week later, Kurt waits for him after class again.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Hummel?” he asks cautiously.

“Stop calling me that,” Kurt tells him, rolling his eyes. “It’s Kurt.”

Blaine ignores him. “What can I do for you?” he repeats.

Kurt holds up the test Blaine just passed back a half hour ago. “My test. I got a B+ on it.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want to argue about your grade? The only answers you got wrong were the ones you left completely blank. You can’t argue those.”

He gives him that same coy smile. “I had to leave them blank. I needed an excuse to stay after class.”

Blaine tries to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling because yeah, that’s definitely a new one. No one’s tried _that_ before. “Like I said,” he says instead, “I’m a teacher and you’re a student. It’s simple.”

“Like _I_ said, I’m twenty-four,” Kurt reminds him. “This isn’t exactly felony material.”

“You’re still a student,” Blaine says. “Which is still against every rule, Mr. Hummel.”

He rolls his eyes at the name but doesn’t comment on it. “Just have coffee with me. Just once. We’ll be discreet.”

Blaine watches him and _god_ does he want to say yes. He wishes they were a few feet closer so he could figure out the exact color of Kurt’s eyes. “No,” he says eventually with an exasperated sigh. “You’re a student. The end.”

Kurt laughs quietly, like he’s laughing at a joke that Blaine’s not in on yet. “More like _to be continued_ , Dr. Anderson.” He heads for the side door and judging by the way he uses his hips, there’s no way he doesn’t know Blaine’s watching him.

:

The next week, he shows up during Blaine’s office hours. “Hello,” he says, peeking his head in through the halfway opened door. “Do you have a moment?”

Blaine gives him an amused smile. “Now what? Let me guess, you want to discuss the paper I handed back. You can flirt all you want, Mr. Hummel, I’m not bumping that up to an A.”

He shrugs and heads towards Blaine’s desk to take the seat across from him. “No,” he answers. “I just had some questions about the homework.”

Blaine huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t _give_ any homework.”

“Oh, it’s not homework for _your_ class,” Kurt tells him, eyes open wide to drive home the exaggerated innocence vibe he’s aiming for. “How much do you know about quadratic equations?”

Blaine gives him a blank look. “I’m a history professor.”

“So not much then?”

“Kurt,” he laughs. “If you’re going to find flimsy excuses to hit on your college professor, you should probably come up with something relevant to his course material.”

Kurt cocks an eyebrow. “So you’re saying I can hit on you if I can make it relevant?”

He laughs again. “No, I — that’s not what I mean.”

Kurt’s smile fades slightly and he leans over the desk. “You like me,” he says quietly. “You laugh at things I say in class, you always ask me questions when we’re in small group discussions, and you look at me when you think I can’t notice.”

Blaine swallows thickly. “I’m a college professor and you’re a student in my class, Ku— Mr. Hummel. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair. They watch each other for a few moments.

“See you in class, Dr. Anderson.” He gives Blaine a smile, a real genuine smile, not one of his standard flirty grins.

Blaine’s heart flutters for a brief second and nods. He can’t focus for the rest of the afternoon.

:

Things shift after that. That brief flash of a genuine moment shifts things.

He sees Kurt in the cafeteria eating lunch with a friend occasionally and when their eyes meet, Kurt gives a small smile and moves his fingers ever so slightly like he’s trying to give the most subtle wave he can imagine. Blaine wonders who she is and how Kurt would introduce him if he walked over to interrupt.

He sees Kurt in the library silently laughing with a few friends over something on his phone. He wonders what it is and what would happen if he wandered over to ask.

He sees Kurt in an empty off-campus coffee shop, alone in a booth looking both frustrated and annoyed. He wonders what Kurt’s frustrated about and why he’s in a rundown coffee shop alone on a Friday night and who made him annoyed and —

Screw it. No harm in saying hello to a student, right?

“This seat taken?” he asks casually.

Kurt looks up, startled expression quickly fading into a pleased smile. “No, not at all.”

“You look frustrated. Hope it’s not because of my paper,” Blaine teases.

Kurt gives him a weak smile. “No, it’s this Biology research paper,” he sighs. “I hate science. And in what way will I ever need to use it again?”

He shrugs. “Can’t help you there. But if you ever need some help with Charlemagne, I’m your guy.”

Kurt cocks his head. “You’re my guy,” he says softly. “Is that right.”

Blaine shifts awkwardly and clears his throat. “Intro to Biology and Intro to European History and it’s your sixth year? Interesting course load.”

“Thankfully, this is my last semester. I work full time at a diner and I’m a part-time intern for a magazine so I haven’t ever been able to take a full course load.”

“Ah,” Blaine says, nodding. “And Introduction courses?”

“I just have to finish up the boring Gen Ed requirements, that’s all. I needed a Science and a History to graduate.”

Blaine watches him for a moment and shuts off his verbal filter to quietly say, “And you chose my class, lucky me.”

There’s a sudden tension and Blaine immediately regrets his words when he sees Kurt’s surprised expression. “I should go,” he says, standing quickly before he can inadvertently _hit on a student_ even more than he already has. He can feel Kurt’s eyes on him as he speedwalks to the door.

:

And then it takes a turn for the worse.

Another student, Sebastian Smythe, stops in during Blaine’s office hours the next week. His come-ons are even worse and much more inappropriate and somehow, before Blaine can even register how quickly everything happens, Sebastian’s perched on the corner of Blaine’s desk, leaning in close and giving Blaine the most uncomfortable leer he’s ever received.

As he’s pushing his chair back to put some space between them, he hears a voice coming from his half-opened doorway.

“Dr. Anderson,” Kurt sing-songs, a teasing lilt to his voice. He pushes the door open and freezes when he sees the incredibly compromising position Blaine and Sebastian are in. “Oh,” he says quietly. He looks between the two of them and the hurt is so evident on his face that for a moment, Blaine briefly considers just pressing Kurt against the wall and kissing him until he can’t remember his own name. “My apologies,” Kurt continues, jaw tightening. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, do continue.”

Then he’s gone.

Blaine stares at the empty doorway for a few more seconds before turning back towards Sebastian to angrily remind him that he’s his _professor._ Blaine feels frustrated and insulted and completely disrespected and tells Sebastian that he’s got the Dean on speed dial in case he ever feels the need to proposition his teacher again. It’s the harshest he’s ever been with a student and it gives him a momentary sense of satisfaction until he pictures Kurt’s face all over again.

:

Kurt doesn’t speak to him in class for the remainder of the semester. He answers questions when directly called upon but never once raises his hand to volunteer. He doesn’t meet Blaine’s eyes, he doesn’t stay after class. He doesn’t leave questions blank on his quizzes or accidentally leave a pen at a desk, doesn’t pretend to have a question for Blaine about his study guide, doesn’t do _any_ of the things he used to do just to spend a few extra minutes with Blaine after class.

He’s _that_ teacher now. The one he was always convinced he would never be. The teacher that’s half in love with one of his students.

After a month of radio silence, he cracks. “Mr. Hummel, a moment?” he asks quietly after he dismisses the class.

Kurt pauses on his way out the door and turns to face him. “Yes, Professor?” he asks back, voice carefully neutral.

Blaine waits until the class is empty before continuing. “I need you to understand,” he starts. “What you saw, that wasn’t — I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

Kurt stares at him and raises an eyebrow. “Do you seriously think I’d report you to the Dean? I wouldn’t. What you do in your own—”

“No,” he argues emphatically, taking a step closer. “You didn’t see what you think you saw, Kurt—”

“It’s fine,” Kurt interrupts. He pauses and suddenly, his look of careful disinterest has faded and his voice is sad. “You could have told me, you know. All that talk about not wanting to date a student, you could have just said you didn’t want _me._ I would have understood. I would have let it go.”

“This is what I mean,” Blaine says, trying not to let the emotion slip through his words. He can’t be saying these things to a student but he can’t figure out how to stop himself, either. “You’ve got the wrong impression.”

Kurt sighs and looks annoyed. “I told you, I’m not going to say anything to anyone, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Now can I please go?”

Blaine briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head as he tries to figure out how it all got to this point. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to date a student. It’s that I _can’t_. And if I could, it most certainly wouldn’t be _him,_ okay, and — and come on, Kurt. You can’t pretend you don’t know how I feel about you.”

Kurt watches him, eyes unblinking, and Blaine watches him back, wanting to break the gaze but knowing he _can’t,_ not right now. After a few minutes of a silence that seems to stretch on, Kurt says, “Well, okay then.” He offers Blaine a small smile then reaches his hand out to barely ghost over Blaine’s. “I’ll see you later, Dr. Anderson.”

He nods imperceptibly and watches Kurt leave. Nothing was resolved and he feels oddly exposed and yet — he knows that somehow, it’ll all be okay.

:

Two days after graduation, though, his feeling of certainty begins to fade. Now that Kurt’s graduated, he thought _something_ would happen. He’s not sure what, exactly, but he thought somehow, things would change. Things would move forward.

And yet Kurt hasn’t done anything. He hasn’t initiated anything. Blaine can’t even try to pretend he’s not hurt and disappointed. Maybe it was a game, he thinks. Maybe Kurt wanted to see if he could do that to a teacher, get him twisted around until he couldn’t think straight. Maybe he was bored, maybe he thought it would pass the time while he suffered through a semester of his boring Gen Ed classes. Or maybe the idea of an older man—

He shakes his head in an effort to clear his thoughts so he can actually finish packing up his office for the summer, so he can _focus_. It doesn’t really work.

“Oh, Dr. Anderson,” sing-songs a familiar voice.

Blaine’s eyes dart over to the doorway. And there Kurt is.

“Can I come in?” he asks, smiling and voice light.

“Of course,” Blaine says on an exhale. “Please.”

Kurt shuts the door then leans back against it. “I’m a graduate now, did you know?”

Blaine nods, unable to find his voice.

“Not a student,” he clarifies. “I have no connection to you or to this school.”

He nods again and takes a few steps towards the door.

“So,” Kurt says carefully, “I guess what I’m wondering is —”

But Blaine has no idea what he’s wondering because he’s got Kurt pressed against the door, determined to kiss him until he can’t remember his own name.

Within minutes, he’s got Kurt’s cardigan unbuttoned and thrown over his desk somewhere and good _god,_ he is not actually trying to have sex in his office, _what the hell_.

“God, Kurt,” he says into Kurt’s collarbone when he pulls away for a moment.

“Dr. _Anderson_ ,” Kurt replies, pretending to be scandalized. “You’re not trying to have your way with a student in your office, are you?”

“Blaine,” he whispers. “It’s Blaine. Call me Blaine.”

“Blaine,” Kurt echoes, voice soft. “What was it you once told me? That you’re my guy?”

Blaine nods, eyes serious. “I am, I’m yours.”

Kurt closes his eyes and sighs. “I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime for you to say that.”

: : :

_**K** iss Kiss, Bang Bang: _

It’s not like Blaine Anderson _chose_ a life of crime. He was born into the mob family and when your dad is the mob boss, it’s not like you can just say, _sorry, Pops, but I want to be an actor_.

Plus, it’s not without its perks.

Namely, a lounge singer called Porcelain, the most beautiful man Blaine has ever seen. And if being in the mob is what it takes to keep Porcelain’s eye, then Blaine will stay in it for as long as he needs to.

“Who’s the guy?” Sebastian says, nodding in the direction of Kurt on stage.

“That’s Porcelain,” one of Blaine’s bodyguards says. “And he’s hands off.”

“Oh?” Sebastian says, intrigued. “And why’s that?”

Blaine leans over the table and gives Sebastian a dangerous smile. “Because I said so.”

It makes Sebastian falter and he shrugs. “Forget I ever said anything.”

He won’t, though. Blaine never forgets anything anyone says about his lounge singer. _Never_.

They resume their meeting as they negotiate over who controls what streets somewhere in the middle of the city. Blaine tunes everyone out as he meets Kurt’s eyes mid-song. Kurt gives him a coy smile and never misses a beat. Blaine’s heartbeat quickens because god, a smile from Kurt makes everything seem stronger and deeper and _more_.

One of the waitresses comes up and brings Blaine a drink. She gives him a flirty smile then sits on his lap for just a minute. “Anything else I can get for you, sugar?” she asks.

Blaine gives her an amused smile because she’s obviously new if she thinks she can sit on his lap right in front of Kurt. Blaine looks over and sure enough, Kurt’s watching the two of them with an arched eyebrow. He doesn’t need to say a word because Blaine already knows exactly what he’s going to say.

He takes his break after two more songs and comes to join Blaine at the table. He slides gracefully into the seat next to Blaine and gives him an unamused look. “Who was the girl?” he asks.

“She’s no one,” Blaine answers with a smile. “There’s nothing to worry about, Kurt.”

“Who said I’m worried?” he says casually.

They watch each other carefully and just like he knew he would, Blaine’s the first to crack. “Fine,” he says. “Consider her good as fired. Happy?”

Kurt doesn’t answer, just smiles his little smile, the one that means he knows he won this round.

And then he’s gone, back on stage while Blaine stares after him. When it comes to Blaine, Kurt wins _every_ round.

:

Blaine doesn’t like to order hits on anyone. He leaves that to the rest of his family.

He makes a few exceptions, of course.

There’s a guy that comes into the bar for five nights straight. He orders a whiskey, sits at the table right in front of the stage, and watches Kurt all night long. When Kurt takes his break, he even stops to talk to him for a few moments before making his way back to Blaine. On the fifth night, Blaine’s lost all patience. “Someone you know?” he asks. He doesn’t even try to disguise the possessive tone.

“Just an ex,” Kurt says, nonchalant.

Blaine sees red.

“An ex?”

Kurt gives him that smile of his. “He’s a nobody, Blaine,” he says quietly, placing his hand over Blaine’s atop the table. “Just a guy that I used to know. We traveled together; he’d play the piano and I’d sing. All before I landed this gig here for you.”

“You traveled together?” Blaine asks, eyes narrowed. “As in he just played and you just sang and nothing else happened between the two of you?”

Kurt rubs his thumb over the back of Blaine’s hand. “He’s a nobody to me,” he repeats, which is as much of an answer as Blaine needs.

The ex doesn’t come around after that night.

Then there’s the Russian that comes in one night to have a meeting with Blaine’s father. He waits for his appointment and sits with Blaine, drinking a vodka tonic. When Kurt takes his break and makes his way towards Blaine, the Russian grins at him and tugs his arm until Kurt falls into his lap.

Kurt clenches his jaw and rights himself but the Russian holds him there. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says.

Kurt looks to Blaine.

“Take your hands off of him,” Blaine says quietly. “And don’t call him sweetheart.”

The Russian gives him a look but then does as he’s told. Kurt immediately heads to his dressing room instead of sitting at their table like he normally does during his breaks and it all just makes Blaine even angrier.

“So who’s the singer?” the Russian asks.

Blaine keeps his face neutral. “ _My_ sweetheart.”

The Russian suddenly looks uncomfortable and rightly so. Blaine figures he’s not going to let this guy last the night.

His father corners him the next day. “Did you put a hit out on that Russian?” he sighs.

Blaine doesn’t answer.

“Dammit, Blaine,” he says, sounding weary but not surprised. “You’re going to start an international mob war over that singer of yours.”

Blaine doesn’t apologize because he’s not sorry.

And then of course, there’s the guy that Kurt cheats on him with, some guy Kurt sees behind Blaine’s back when he’s offstage and Blaine’s working.

He angrily waits for Kurt in his dressing room one night after a show. Kurt startles when he opens his door and sees Blaine inside but it immediately shifts into a seductive smile. “Hey there, handsome,” he says, voice smooth.

Blaine clenches his hands by his side and wills himself to stay strong. He can’t look at Kurt or his resolve will fade.

“Who was he?” Blaine asks, embarrassed with how broken his voice sounds.

Kurt stills. “Who was … who?”

“The guy, the one you’ve been seeing behind my back,” Blaine answers. He sounds hurt and betrayed and vulnerable and a million other ways that the son of a mob boss should not be sounding.

Kurt gives him a quizzical look. “Who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Blaine says, dropping his eyes. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Kurt takes a few steps closer and reaches down to tilt Blaine’s chin back up. “I’m not playing anything, sweetheart. I don’t know who you mean.”

Blaine stares up at him with sad eyes. “Tell me why. I’m good to you, I give you everything you could want. So _why_?”

He stares down him, silent and confused before taking a seat on Blaine’s knee. “You’re the only guy for me, Blaine,” he says softly. “There’s nobody else. Nobody before you and there won’t ever be anybody after.”

Blaine loses some of the tension in his shoulders. “You mean it?”

But Kurt stiffens like he’s suddenly figuring something out. “Oh, no. No, tell me you didn’t have him killed, Blaine.”

Blaine tenses up again. “So you admit it? There _was_ a guy?”

“Oh, god,” Kurt sighs. “You _did_ , didn’t you. You had him killed.”

He looks up at Kurt and tries to not look as betrayed as he feels.

“Dammit, Blaine,” Kurt says, swatting his shoulder and shoving at him. “He was helping me with your birthday present. I had him out looking for a gold pocket watch for you and then I was going to have it engraved. He was _helping_ me, Blaine.”

He pushes himself off of Blaine’s lap and moves towards the mirror to fix his hair. “I swear that guy is impossible,” Kurt mutters to himself before meeting Blaine’s eyes through the reflection of the mirror. “You’re going to start a mob war over me if you’re not careful.”

But Blaine’s grinning and doesn’t have a care in the world because everything’s okay, Kurt still loves him. “So I hear,” Blaine says with a wink.

:

And then Blaine starts a mob war over Kurt.

Blaine’s father pulls him into his office one afternoon.

“We need to talk,” he tells Blaine, voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Okay,” he says slowly. And then he realizes that there’s only one reason his father would have that tone of voice with him. “Where’s Kurt?” Blaine asks, already shaking.

“We don’t know,” his father says. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” Blaine asks, eyes wide. “How can you tell me that?”

“Because you’re going to become irrational and do something foolish before we have a chance to get anything accomplished. We think it’s either the Russians or the Italians.”

“Why are we standing here?” Blaine asks, irritated. “We need to find him, go after him.”

His father stares at him. “And we will, son. But not until we know who we’re going after. We can’t just start a war with the whole damn city.”

“The hell we can’t,” Blaine grits out, turning on his heel.

He grabs his guns, a few of his men, and takes to the street, ready to start a war with the whole damn city.

:

He starts with some low-level Italians who swear they don’t know a thing. He shows up at a Russian joint, guns blazing as he demands answers. A few of his father’s men show up during a shootout in an Irish bar which means his father is keeping his eye on Blaine and on the ever-rising body count.

After two days full of blood and gunfire, Blaine finds Kurt tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse outside of the city. He has hand-shaped bruises on his arm and Blaine swears to him, swears on everything holy, that he will find the man that left those bruises and when he does, that man will wish he had never been born.

“Just take me home,” Kurt says softly, eyes never leaving Blaine’s.

Blaine carefully helps Kurt out of the chair and takes him home.

“Never again,” he whispers as Kurt falls asleep. “Never again will anyone ever touch you like that.”

If staying in the mob is what it takes to keep Kurt safe then Blaine will stay in it for the rest of this lifetime and the next.

: : :

_**L** ost in space: _

The Delta Quadrant is hell. Getting lost in space for a whole lifetime is the worst thing that’s ever happened to Blaine Anderson.

Yeah, yeah, he’ll probably never see his family again or eat at his favorite inter-galactic restaurants back home and seventy five years on a ship with a half dozen angry Klingons will probably end dismally but worse?

There is a guy.

And Blaine cannot find him _anywhere_.

Worse, no one can help him because the best description Blaine can give anyone is _he’s about twenty years old with chestnut brown hair, really really hot and wearing a standard issue Starfleet uniform._

The _Voyager_ is a massive ship and Blaine has no idea where to start looking for the mystery guy.

But he’s got seventy five years, so.

:

Month one. Blaine scopes out all of Engineering with absolutely no luck. He spends an entire day — literally a full twenty four hours — in the kitchen, hoping maybe he can find him that way. He has to eat _sometime_ , right?

But apparently, no. Mystery Guy never comes into eat, not once.

:

Month two. Artie, his friend from all four years at Starfleet Academy, kind of stages an intervention.

“You’re freaking me out,” he says carefully. “You’re like obsessed with this guy.”

“I just want to find him,” Blaine sighs, falling face down onto his bed. “He has to be somewhere.”

Artie shakes his head. “Are you sure you didn’t hallucinate him?”

“Positive,” he answers into his pillow. “He was right there, right across the room and then that whole thing happened where we were thrown across the galaxy and there was all that chaos and pandemonium and … then he was gone.”

“I don’t know, Blaine,” he says. “Things were all jacked up in that mess. Maybe you made the whole thing up in your head.”

“I didn’t,” he argues. “Trust me.”

“You sound like a crazy person,” Artie says to himself. “I’m not trusting a damn word you say.”

:

Month three. Blaine scours the bottom five decks, room to room. Not only does everyone look at him like he’s a psycho but none of them can seem to think of a really really hot guy around twenty years old from Starfleet.

“Maybe that proves you _did_ make him up,” Artie suggests at dinner.

“No,” Blaine counters. “It proves that everyone here needs their eyes checked.”

:

Month four. Blaine is slowly losing not only his hope but also a small shred of his sanity. He refuses to spend seventy five years on this ship without even knowing that guy’s name.

“What’s the deal with this guy?” Artie asks, confused. “You’ve never had a real conversation. How the hell do you know he’s worth all this?”

And Blaine’s already asked himself that a million times. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s just a feeling. I’m supposed to find him. It’s what I’m meant to do.”

Artie stares at him. “You still sound like a crazy person, just an FYI.”

Blaine pokes at his food and so doesn’t care.

:

Month five. Blaine sits in front of a computer during every one of his days off and scans through the database of everyone on the ship. And then after that, the database of everyone in Starfleet.

Still, nothing.

:

Month six. Blaine spends a lot of time in the bar. Like, _a lot_. Artie almost tries to stage another intervention but then his girlfriend in medical bay breaks up with him so he joins Blaine and they spend their days off working their way through the cocktails menu.

:

Month seven. Artie drags him to the Holodeck. He’s a whiz with computers so he spends hours trying to generate programs to distract them. They’re cowboys and movie stars and rock singers and a hundred other scenarios Artie can think of.

One day, in the middle of his _relaxing day at the beach_ program, Blaine sees him. He’s there and then he’s gone. He jolts up from his spot on the beach chair.

“He was right there! Artie, he was there!” he says, pointing off into the distance.

Artie takes off his sunglasses and gives him a skeptical look. “We’re the only real people in here, Blaine. Everything else is computer generated.”

“I know,” he says, exasperated. “But _you_ created this. Where did you come up with your templates?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’d have to run through the program.”

“Do it,” Blaine pleads. “Find him.”

:

Month eight. Blaine spends a lot of time staring up at his ceiling, resigned to never finding his true love and _dying miserable and alone_. Artie can barely convince him to leave his room when he says he has a surprise for him.

“The last time you said that, it was a guy in a gold Speedo dancing on a pole in the Holodeck,” Blaine reminds him. “Thanks but no.”

“Speedo-free,” Artie says with a knowing smile. “No poles, either. Unless you _want_ one.”

When they get to the Holodeck, Blaine is greeted by a long line of smiling, computer generated men.

“Artie,” he groans. “Stop trying to set me up with holograms.”

“Look closer, _”_ Artie says. “I isolated every brunet under the age of thirty that I’ve ever put into one of my programs. Find him.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and he starts glancing around, never lingering too long on any one face.

And then there he is. Smiling right at Blaine and god, Blaine’s never wanted to pretend a hologram was real so much in his life.

“That’s him,” he whispers. “That’s the mystery guy. That’s my soulmate.”

“Your soul—” Artie starts, rolling his eyes. “What the hell ever, I don’t even care. I just want to end this insanity.” He starts messing around with the tablet in his lap and Blaine starts thrumming with nerves, more impatient than he’s been in these last eight months.

“Kurt Hummel,” Artie says, finally looking up. “He’s one of the xenolinguists that works on deck seven. But I think that—”

But Blaine has no idea what Artie thinks because he’s already gone before he can finish the sentence, out the door, down the hall, in the elevator. When he gets to the seventh deck, he makes his way down the corridor, hands shaking.

He freezes when he sees the giant sign on the door: _Security Clearance Required._

God _dammit._ He hates this ship. He hates space.

“—that you need security clearance,” Artie finishes as he rolls up next to him. He waves his badge in the air. “If I give you this, do you swear you’ll stop being a legit psycho?”

Blaine doesn’t answer, just grabs the card and runs at the doors. When they slide open, everyone looks up, including Kurt Hummel, deck seven xenolinguist. Kurt’s face breaks out into a surprised smile. “It's you.”

“There you are,” Blaine says on an exhale. “I’ve been looking for you forever.”

Getting lost in space for a whole lifetime with Kurt Hummel is the best thing that’s ever happened to Blaine Anderson.

: : :

_**M** odel (You Better Work): _

“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine grits out, “you are such a — such a — _god,_ I don’t even know. You’re such a _jerk_.”

“A jerk?” Kurt scoffs, eyebrow raised. “That’s the best you’ve got? What are you, ten years old?”

Blaine narrows his eyes and takes a step closer into Kurt’s personal space. “No, I’m trying to be polite and _civilized_. But you make it really hard, you know.”

Kurt lets out a skeptical laugh. “You’re _competition_ , Blaine. We’re not supposed to be polite. We’re not supposed to be friendly. We’re supposed to be fighting against each other to win. God, you’re so childish.”

His mouth falls open. “Me? _I’m_ childish?”

“You’re naive,” Kurt continues, taking a step forward. “And you’ll never win with that mentality.”

“I’m not the one that won’t let up on the insults or not-so-subtle jabs in front of the judges. I’m not the one that mixed my hair gel with rubber cement. I’m not the one that intentionally threw away my lucky bowtie. That’s all _you_ , Kurt. _You’re_ the child.”

Suddenly, they’re only a few inches away from each other. Suddenly, Blaine is staring at Kurt’s mouth. Suddenly, Blaine is realizing how very, _very_ attractive Kurt Hummel is.

Kurt’s staring right back, eyes wide like maybe he knows exactly what Blaine’s thinking. Like maybe he’s having those same thoughts.

They both quickly back away.

“Stay away from me,” Kurt snaps, fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Right back at you,” Blaine bites back, eyes narrowed again. “Leave me alone. Leave my stuff alone. Just — stay away, okay?”

Kurt laughs again. “Dream on, Blaine. Like I would waste my time on _you_.”

For some reason, that stings and Blaine frowns before he can stop himself. The last thing he needs is Kurt knowing he’s affected him but it’s too late.

Kurt pauses when he sees Blaine’s face like maybe he’s going to say something. He almost looks … apologetic. There’s a commotion in the living room, though, and the moment’s broken. Blaine hurries up the stairs to his room before he can say anything stupid or embarrassing.

:

Being on _Who Wants to Be a Supermodel?_ is not what Blaine expected. He thought he’d make some friends, last through a few eliminations, and spend enough time away from Ohio and his brand-new empty depressing apartment — and most importantly, away from his _ex —_ that he’d forget all about his not-so-pleasant breakup.

Instead, he ended up stuck in a house with a bunch of guys that are unbelievably cutthroat and a contestant named Kurt Hummel that hates him and that he hates right back.

Sure, Kurt will probably win this thing because Jesus, look at the guy. His slender frame, his posture, the way he _owns_ the runway, he was made to win it. He’s also the biggest a-hole Blaine has maybe ever met.

And he’s also like, incredibly, ridiculously hot. He didn’t really notice it at first because Kurt was too busy being an ass for Blaine to notice anything else. But as the weeks go on and their numbers dwindle, it’s basically _all_ Blaine can notice.

It falls apart the week they do the swimwear photo shoot. Kurt is wearing swim trunks low on his hips and absolutely nothing else, good _god_. Blaine tries his hardest not to stare but he fails miserably and then gets called out on it by the judges that night. They criticize him for being distracted and unfocused and unprofessional. They ask him if staring at a half-naked Kurt Hummel is actually more important than winning.

Unfortunately, Kurt Hummel is right there when they say it. Blaine sees him stiffen from where he stands a few feet away.

Blaine gets sent home. He’s not surprised.

:

Kurt corners him in his room as Blaine’s packing up his stuff.

“Is that true?” he asks from the doorway. “You’ve been watching me?”

Blaine sighs. Kurt acting superior and condescending and … well, like _Kurt_ is so not what he needs right now. “Yes. But let’s not get into it, okay? I’ll stay away from you after tonight. Permanently.”

Kurt’s silent and Blaine’s a little confused at his lack of snippy comeback. “I didn’t mix your hairgel,” he admits quietly. “Or get rid of your bowtie.”

Blaine looks up from his suitcase and gives him a quizzical look. “What? You didn’t take it?”

“I didn’t get rid of it,” Kurt repeats. “But I maybe took it.”

He sighs again. “I don’t suppose you’ll give it back?”

Kurt shrugs and breaks eye contact. “If you’d like. I just — you looked _really_ good in it. I wanted something to remember you by.”

Blaine blinks. “But you hate me, Kurt.”

He lets out a small, embarrassed laugh. “Not anymore, not for awhile. I’m — I’m half in love with you, I think.”

His mouth drops open and he struggles to find words. “You _what_?”

Kurt shrugs and looks away to try to hide his pink cheeks.

“But you’re — you’re always so _mean_.”

“You were mean back, you know,” Kurt says defensively. “It’s just that you’re everyone’s favorite because everyone loves you and you’re so… _charming_. And I knew you’d win this the first time I saw you wearing next to nothing and I — I felt threatened.”

It’s Blaine’s turn to laugh. “Kurt, if you don’t win this competition than there’s something truly wrong with the world. No way you’re not the last one of us on that runway.”

Kurt meets his eyes and smiles. “You really think that, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Blaine says quietly, abandoning his suitcase and walking toward Kurt. “You’ll be a star.”

Suddenly, there are camera guys and random crew members and Blaine’s being rushed out of the house before he can say anything else. He doesn’t even get to say goodbye.

:

Naturally, Kurt wins the whole thing. At the cast reunion the night after the finale airs, they immediately lock eyes from across the room and before Blaine even registers what he’s doing, he walks right over and pulls Kurt tight into his arms.

It feels incredibly normal, it feels _right_ , like maybe they were made to fit together like that.

They kiss right on live TV.

“I’m going to spend the rest of life loving you,” he whispers into Kurt’s ear.

Kurt lets out a small laugh. “Okay,” he says quietly. “But let’s not start right here and now in front of a live studio audience maybe.”

Blaine pulls back to meet Kurt’s eyes. “Let’s go then.”

Kurt laughs again. “We can’t go _now_ , Blaine. We’re in the middle of a live reunion episode, in case you forgot.”

And yeah, he sort of did.

“I’ll make you a deal, though,” Kurt says with a flirty smile. “Give me an hour right now in front of the cameras and then we’ll get out of here to have a little reunion of our own, the fun kind that the audience definitely doesn’t get to see.”

Blaine grins. “I like that deal,” he says, giving him another kiss.

They spend a lot of time in front of cameras during that lifetime but the best moments are the ones that no one else gets to see.

: : :

_**N** erds Do I.T. Better: _

Being an accountant is far from glamorous but being Sam Evans’s accountant is totally worth it. He spends approximately eighty-three percent of his day doing actual work, seven percent doing miscellaneous activities like using the restroom, getting coffee, and socializing by the water cooler, and the remaining ten percent staring at Sam.

He’s admittedly not the sharpest tool in the shed but Blaine sort of doesn’t care. He can overlook it if he stares at Sam’s arms long enough.

It all starts to shift the day he gets a computer virus. He’s good with computers, sure, but that mostly just means he rocks at Excel spreadsheets and can perform data compilation in his sleep. He has no idea what to do when one of the damn things starts flickering with a dozen error messages.

So he calls I.T.

The guy that comes up looks vaguely familiar and Blaine’s pretty sure he’s seen him at a few company meetings. He’s dressed in Marc Jacobs, though, and no way this guy is I.T.

“You’re I.T.?” Blaine asks skeptically.

“I am,” he answers, smiling. He takes in Blaine’s sweater vest and bowtie then says, “And you are most definitely an accountant.”

“I’m Blaine,” he tells him, deciding not to be offended at this guy totally stereotyping him based on his wardrobe since Blaine did the same thing like ten seconds ago.

“I’m Kurt,” he says back. “From I.T.”

They stare at each other awkwardly for a few moments.

“So, computer malfunction?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Blaine says quickly. “I swear! I saved my spreadsheet and then a dozen programs started popping up.”

Kurt hums and gestures for Blaine to hand his seat over so he can sit down and take a look at it. “Your anti-virus software is incredibly out of date,” he says finally. “You have over fifteen files that need to be quarantined and I haven’t even ran a diagnostic scan yet. What do you _do_ on this thing?”

Blaine shrugs. “Nothing to give me a virus! It’s Excel spreadsheets and data reports all day.”

Kurt looks up and gives him a small smile. “Sounds fascinating.”

Just then, Sam walks by his desk and Blaine stares after him. “It has its perks.”

Kurt’s smile flickers and he looks away. “Right. Well, I’ll run a test if you want to… do whatever it is you need to do.”

Blaine nods. “I’ll go grab a cup of coffee.”

Kurt eyes the practically full mug Blaine has sitting on his desk then glances over to the coffee maker to see Sam pouring almost an entire bottle of creamer into a coffee mug of his own. He doesn’t say anything.

That day, Blaine spends only seventy-three percent of his day working and a full sixteen percent talking to Sam.

:

Suddenly, Blaine starts to run into Kurt everywhere even though he works in the basement and Blaine works up on the ninth floor. And after a few weeks, he suddenly starts finding things wrong with his computer. Like he could probably use an Adobe update and he shouldn’t do that all by himself, right, because what if he accidentally hits _Run_ instead of _Save_? And he swears his computer used to be faster so maybe he should get Kurt to look at his hard drive, maybe see if some clean-up needs to be done.

They start talking almost everyday and eating lunch together in the awful downstairs cafeteria. They email constantly throughout his eight hour workday and Blaine’s schedule shifts to seventy-nine percent work, four percent miscellaneous, five percent Sam watching, and twelve percent talking with Kurt, be it in the cafeteria or email or the hallway or over their fancy company desk phones.

Kurt’s a _genius_ with computers and the first time they see each other outside of work, he offers to enhance Blaine’s laptop with a bunch of techie stuff _for free_. They’re sitting across from each other at the bar that a bunch of employees go to after work on Fridays and Blaine leans across the table with an excited look. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Sure,” he says with a shy smile. “It’s easy.”

“So do you like it?” Blaine asks, gesturing around the bar. “Are you glad I talked you into to giving this place a shot?”

Kurt’s ears turn a bit pink for some reason. “I like it,” he says. “I’m having a good time. Enjoying the company.”

Sam pulls up a chair right then and oh god, this has _never happened before._

“Seat taken?” he asks the two of them.

Blaine’s eyes get wide and he shakes his head. He glances over to Kurt and tries to give him a look that conveys his thoughts of _Kurt, can you even believe this is happening right now??_

Kurt’s smile is gone and his eyes don’t meet Blaine’s. He plays with the straw of his drink for a few moments then stands. “I should really get going,” he says to no one in particular. “Have a good weekend, the both of you.”

Then he’s gone and inexplicably, Blaine’s mood deflates a bit. He spends the next half hour listening to Sam’s theories on the possibility of another Cold War and about umpteen impressions. It’s not even a fraction of how cool he thought it would be to have a real conversation with him. And it’s definitely not even a fraction of how fun his conversations with Kurt are.

:

On Monday, it’s like nothing ever happened and they’re back to their hourly emails and calls. They don’t mention Sam or the bar.

On Thursday, a bunch of the company heads to Philadelphia for some two day conference. They don’t see each other much because they’re both there for different presentations and speakers but he catches Kurt’s eye from across the room later during Happy Hour in the hotel lobby. He moves to make his way across the room to Blaine but his eyes flicker over to Sam who decides in that very moment to throw his arm across Blaine’s shoulders. Kurt’s smile falters and he waves instead of coming to join him. Blaine watches him start a conversation with one of the girls in Marketing and disappointment washes over him.

By the end of the hour and after a few more impressions, Sam is pretty loaded and Blaine figures it’s time to help him up to his room. Plus, Kurt’s long gone, somehow slipping out of the room while Blaine looked away, so he doesn’t really have much of a reason to stick around anymore.

Sam is awkward and drunk and incredibly uncoordinated and spends the entire elevator ride talking about some girl in HR that he’s half in love with instead of using his brain power to focus on like, remaining upright.

He awkwardly fishes the room card out of Sam’s back pocket and it dawns on him that a month ago, this would have been a dream come true. And now — now he’s alone in Sam Evan’s hotel room with no desire to be there for even a second more. He helps him take off his shoes and lie under the covers then pulls a trashcan over to the side of the bed and fills a few cups of water that he places on the nightstand. He just wants to _leave_ and he can’t figure out what’s changed.

Satisfied that he’s done enough, he heads out into the hallway down to his room. When he makes his way out and closes the door behind him, he locks eyes with Kurt who is only a few feet away, hand hovering over the door knob to go into his own room.

His eyes widen in shock as he sees Blaine _coming out of Sam Evan’s room_ and he almost drops the ice bucket in his left hand.

“Kurt—” Blaine starts, suddenly panicky that he’ll get the wrong impression and — oh, _that. That’s_ why everything changed.

But Kurt’s gone.

Blaine walks over and hesitates outside of his door, hand poised to knock. There are voices inside, though, and he figures he shouldn’t interrupt. He goes back to his own room feeling defeated.

:

On Monday, Kurt’s email responses are friendly but distant and all of Blaine’s calls go directly to Kurt’s voicemail. He spends about forty-three percent of his day sick to his stomach, trying to figure out what his next step is. He went to MIT, for crying out loud, he should be smarter than this.

An hour before the end of the day, he makes his way to the basement and pauses by Kurt’s desk as he holds out a USB stick. He looks up, startled to see Blaine standing in front of him.

“Here,” Blaine says, eyes trained on Kurt’s. “There’s a Power Point presentation on here. I prepared it to convince you to date me.”

Kurt’s mouth falls open slightly. “Pardon me?”

“I have a pretty aggressive 401k so I’ll be able to give you a really comfortable retirement someday. I’ll be great at helping you do your taxes — for free, obviously. And a bunch of us upstairs have a time share for some condos down south, if you ever want to check that out.”

Kurt stares at him.

“There’s more,” Blaine explains, laying the stick on his desk. “Look it over and let me know what you think.”

After few long moments, Kurt starts to smile. “You had me at free taxes.”

Their first kiss is a few moments later in a crowded supply closet. Pressed up against a shelf with a few staplers and eighty ballpoint pens, that’s how that lifetime kicks off.

: : :

_**O** nce Upon a Time: _

_Once upon a time, there were two boys that lived in a small village. One was fair-skinned with pale eyes and had a father who loved him fiercely, the other with dark hair and golden eyes who smiled easily to everyone he knew. They were lonely children that didn’t know each other. Their names were Kurt and Blaine._

_When Kurt was eight, his mother died suddenly. His father’s fierce love became even fiercer and he became harshly protective. One day, older boys from the city found Kurt on his way home from school and left him bruised and bloody. His father grew fiercer still. Another day, Kurt came home from school with a happy look in eyes, a look his father hadn’t seen in years. He became more and more protective as he started to distrust anyone who might know his son. And on another day, Kurt came home and told his father about a boy he met, a boy he cared about, a boy that he wanted to make plans with, a boy he thought was special. His father felt hopeless and knew that this boy would hurt his son, hurt him not with actions or fists but with words and tears._

_It was his father’s worst fear so he did what he thought he had to, what he thought was necessary._

_He hid Kurt in a tower far far away, guarded by a dragon, magic, an enchantress, and a fairy, to keep him safe for all eternity. His one true love, if Kurt were to have one, would be the only person to free him from his fortress._

:

It’s been two days since Blaine has last seen Kurt. On the morning of the third, he approaches Finn, a friend of Kurt’s family, and asks if he’s seen him or if maybe there’s something wrong.

“Burt took him to a tower,” Finn answers. “To keep him safe.”

Blaine stares at him with wide eyes. “Safe from what?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “But I know there’s magic and a dragon and a witch.”

Blaine tries not to feel heartbroken.

“You could try and rescue him?” Finn suggests. “If you’re good at killing dragons.”

He’s not — but he refuses to let that stop him. So he goes into town to buy a horse, a sword, and as much food as he can fit into his satchel. Blaine sets out midday and the hours turn to days, the days turn to weeks, and the weeks turn to months.

Finally, in the beginning of the third month, Blaine rides into a clearing with a huge tower guarded by a huge, sleeping dragon. He ties his horse to a tree far enough away from the dragon to keep it out of harm’s way.

He sneaks closer and closer, gripping his sword tighter.

A few more steps and the dragon still hasn’t moved. It doesn’t even register Blaine’s presence. He wonders if it’s a trap somehow.

He inches closer still, and tries to keep his steps as soft as possible for fear of —

“The dragon’s dead, you know,” calls a voice high from the tower. “I slayed it ages ago.”

Blaine’s eyes widen, afraid that the sudden voice might wake the dragon now that he’s only a few feet away but the dragon is unmoving. As he steps even closer, he sees that the voice is right; the dragon isn’t even breathing.

“Who are you?” the voice calls down. “Step out of the shadows so I can see who you are.”

Blaine takes a deep calming breath then takes a few steps into the sunlight.

The boy in the tower gasps. “Blaine,” he says quietly, so quiet that Blaine can barely hear him. “I knew you would find me.”

Blaine grins up at him, at his Kurt, and says, “I knew you would be waiting for me.”

Kurt smiles at him widely but it’s gone just as quickly as it came and he raises an eyebrow. “What took you so long?”

He gapes a little. “A horse can only go so fast, Kurt.”

“And?” he asks, looking unimpressed. “How many times did you get lost?”

“I—” he falters, not making eye contact. “I didn’t pay attention to that.”

Kurt hums a response. “More like you lost count.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “Can we go back to the part about you being happy to see me again?”

He smiles again. “Trust me, I’m happy to see you.”

“Well?” Blaine says. “Are you going to come down?”

Kurt hesitates. “I can’t go down there. You have to come up here.”

Blaine blinks and takes a long, long, _long,_ look up the stone tower and tries to calculate its height. “Uh.”

“A hundred and three feet,” Kurt says after a long silence. “In case you were wondering.”

“How am I supposed to climb a hundred feet, Kurt?” he asks, eyes wide.

Kurt cringes. “There are some steps around the other side. Sort of.”

 _Sort of._ Blaine seriously doesn’t want to know what that means.

Kurt’s his one true love, though, and if he has to spend his whole life climbing this stone tower, so be it.

He sees what Kurt means when Blaine circles the tower. There are _sort of_ steps that look more like a few inches of protruding stone here and there. And they _move_. He watches for a few moments as he realizes he could be standing on a small protruding stone for a good fifteen minutes before it moves close enough to another for him to climb. _Magic_ , Blaine remembers Finn saying. Awesome, magical stairs, totally what Blaine needs right now.

He starts his upward travel a few minutes later and stands on one rock for almost three entire minutes before another one appears to his left, slightly higher up. He stands on that one for seven minutes before another one appears. And then he stands on the third for only a minute before it disappears and he falls crashing to the ground. He lies there, flat on his back, and stares up at the never-ending tower as he tries not to feel defeated.

He lies there for a few hours, trying to discern a pattern or some kind of methodology to the magic stairs. After he figures out the system, he stares up for another six hours watching each stone, studying and memorizing its movements.

The next day, Blaine starts again at dawn. He almost falls three times, once from almost eighty feet in the air, but by early evening, he’s able to climb into the tiny door only a few inches from the top. He crawls into the little cramped room, brushes his pants off and tries to make himself look presentable for Kurt, his soulmate that he hasn’t seen up close in over three months.

He pushes up at the small wooden doors at the top of the room and finally —

— pulls himself up into the room at the top of the tower. The room where Kurt is beaming at him, running forward.

“You found me,” he whispers as he launches into Blaine’s arms. “You came for me.”

“Wherever you are,” Blaine whispers back, “that’s where I’ll be, too. I love you.”

They kiss for a few long moments before Blaine pulls back and says, “It’s going to be a long trip back down, Kurt. We should get started before it gets too dark to see.”

Kurt nods then tugs him back towards the room Blaine just crawled out of. “Let’s see how magic these steps really are.”

Blaine gives him a quizzical look because uh, they _move_ and they _disappear_ , how much more magical does he want them to be?

But as they look outside, sure enough, they _are_ magic because where rotating disappearing rocks were only an hour before, a new sturdy, solid staircase now appears. It takes them only three minutes to carefully make their way back down.

:

“A dragon and magic stairways,” Blaine sighs with a relief. “Our ride back home will seem totally easy now.”

Kurt looks away. “I don’t know if that’s … everything.”

Blaine sighs again but this time with much less relief.

They sit with Blaine’s chest to Kurt’s back on the horse for almost an entire day before they come upon a huge, deep, river with a rickety bridge hovering precariously above it. And standing at the entrance of the bridge is, of course, a creepy looking witch holding an apple. Of course.

“If you’ve made it this far, then you’ve proved dedication, perseverance, and patience,” she says to Blaine when they climb down off the horse in front of her. “But now comes a test of another kind.”

Blaine tries not to stare directly at her because he thinks maybe she won’t be able to cast any kind of spells that way. Also, she looks terrifying and creepy and bald and about a thousand years old.

She holds out the apple to Kurt who takes it cautiously. “Eat this apple and you can cross my bridge,” she tells him.

Blaine and Kurt both stare at the apple in his hand.

“Why?” Kurt asks hesitantly. “What did you do it?”

“Eat this apple and you can cross my bridge,” is all she says.

“Is it magic?” Blaine says. “Is it poison?”

“Eat this apple and you can cross my bridge,” she repeats.

Kurt stares at it apprehensively and Blaine’s eyes dart between Kurt’s eyes and the apple in his hands.

“What will it do to me?” Kurt asks.

“Eat this apple—”

“—and I can cross your bridge,” Kurt interrupts with an eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Blaine swallows nervously as Kurt lifts it to his mouth.

“Wait!” he calls out before meeting the witch’s eyes. “That’s it, right? The apple needs to be eaten and he can cross.”

She nods.

“Simple as that?” Blaine asks. “If that apple is eaten, Kurt crosses the bridge, no exceptions?”

She nods and gives a creepy smile.

Blaine takes a deep breath then steels himself. He quickly grabs the apple out of Kurt’s hand and takes a bite. Then another and another.

“Blaine!” Kurt says loudly. “Stop! What are you doing? Give that — _stop,_ Blaine!”

But it’s too late. Blaine holds up the apple core to the witch and says, “Now let him cross.”

He waits for the poison to take him. He waits for his body to shut down and collapse. He waits —

— and nothing happens. Kurt and the witch both stare at him and Blaine frowns.

“Nothing’s happening,” he tells the witch.

She smiles again and then with a flash of light, a gust of wind, and a swirl of colors, she turns into a beautiful enchantress. “Selflessness and protection,” she says. “You have passed the test.”

Blaine blinks. “So wait, nothing was wrong with that apple?”

“You thought there was,” she explains, “and would not let him eat it. A sign of true love.”

They cross the bridge and while Blaine is giddy with relief, Kurt walks with an angry silence.

“You don’t steal a poisoned apple and _eat it_ ,” he grits out after they reach the other side.

“It wasn’t poisoned,” Blaine points out.

Kurt narrows his eyes. “You thought it was and you tried to sacrifice yourself. Do you know how mad I am at you right now?”

Blaine frowns. “Wait. Seriously?”

“You didn’t try to negotiate or come up with alternate solutions! You just dove right in like a suicidal idiot!” He looks away but Blaine can see the tears in his eyes. “You don’t get to leave me like that, do you understand?”

Blaine nods. “I understand,” he whispers. “And I’m sorry. It’s just — I love you.”

They climb on the horse and Kurt clings tightly until nightfall when they set up camp. Then they lie on some blankets and Kurt clings tightly until dawn.

:

Two days later, they come to a huge, solid, glass wall.

“What the…” Blaine trails off.

They both press their hands up against it to test its strength.

And it’s strong.

They try to stand on each other’s shoulders to see how high it goes, they try to dig under it, they walk for miles to the left and then miles to the right but still… nothing. They give up by nightfall and decide to start again in the morning.

As Blaine tries to fall asleep, a small fairy suddenly appears and tugs at his ear to force him to sit up. He looks over to see Kurt fast asleep.

“Kurt is your one true love,” she states simply.

“Yes,” Blaine says slowly.

“And you’re absolutely positive of this?”

“Yes,” he says again, more forcefully.

“You believe it with your heart and soul?”

“Yes,” Blaine says yet again, a little exasperated. He tries not to get annoyed because hello, a _fairy_ is talking to him and maybe they’re always irritating like this.

She pauses and cocks her head as she flits around. “But are you _his_?”

Blaine stares at her silently.

“How sure are you that you are _his_ one true love?”

He swallows. “I’m sure.”

“Are you?” she asks.

He nods. “I — yeah. Pretty sure.”

She pauses. “Then why has he not told you that he loves you?”

Blaine thinks for a moment before he realizes she’s right. “Just because he hasn’t said it doesn’t mean he doesn’t _feel_ it,” he says defensively.

“This is your last test,” she says, still hovering around his head. “When he says those three words, this magic wall will disappear and you can finish your journey home. But it must be by _choice_. If you prompt him or hint or cheat in any way, he will cross this barrier and you will forever stay here on the other side.”

Blaine watches her and she flits away. He sighs inwardly with relief because they should totally have this in the bag. Kurt loves him. No doubt in his mind. Except …

Kurt doesn’t say it the next day. Or the one after that. Or after that. In fact, he’s too frustrated with their lack of progress on the solid glass wall to say much of anything.

After a week, the doubt starts to creep into Blaine’s mind. Maybe he doesn’t mean to Kurt what Kurt means to him. Maybe everything is hopeless.

During the night, three woodland outlaws ride into their camp and threaten them with swords and demand what remaining food they have left. Blaine jumps in front of Kurt simply on instinct and winds up with a gash down his side and an incredible amount of blood loss. He can barely remember what happens next but within moments, Kurt is kneeling by his side, tearfully trying to wrap makeshift bandages around Blaine’s side whispering, “I love you, I love you, please don’t leave me here, I love you.” Suddenly, the wall next to them shatters into millions of tiny water droplets that rain down upon them, opening their passage home.

All he remembers next is waking up back home in his old house, Kurt clinging to his hand and perched on a chair by Blaine’s bedside.

“You’re awake, you’re okay,” Kurt says on a exhale.

Blaine turns his head to the side to meet Kurt’s eyes. “ _You’re_ okay,” he says. “I rescued you.”

Kurt smiles through his tears. “And then I rescued _you._ ”

Blaine smiles back then winces as he shifts and feels pain shooting through his left side.

“It will take a bit for it to heal,” Kurt tells him. “But you _will_ heal.”

“I’m sorry about this,” Blaine apologizes. “About everything. It didn’t work out the way I planned it.”

Kurt shrugs. “We got each other out of all this. I’d say it worked out pretty well.”

:

_Kurt’s one true love rescued him from the fortress and Blaine’s one true love rescued him from the forest. Together they fought a dragon, magic, a witch and a fairy. They stayed in love for a lifetime and lived happily ever after._

: : :

_**P** aging Doctor Anderson: _

Kurt comes into Blaine’s ER looking like an absolute mess. His face is swollen thanks to some kind of allergic reaction, he’s got a tear stained face, and he’s absolutely freaking the hell out. To top it all off, he raves like a crazy person for about fifteen minutes about how he’s going to die.

“This is the best hospital in Chicago,” Blaine tries to tell him. “One of the best in the country, actually. I promise, you’re in good hands.”

Kurt seems incredibly unconvinced but relaxes after Blaine loads him up with some antihistamines and sets him with an IV to help with his dehydration. He decides to keep him in Observation overnight, mainly because he wants to make sure firsthand that the rash clears up completely but also because he’s not totally convinced that Kurt won’t have a panic attack in the night.

The fact that Kurt is _incredibly_ attractive after the swelling goes down and the hair is combed has nothing to do with it. Dr. Blaine Anderson is a professional.

He brings Kurt a bunch of discharge paperwork the next morning right before his shift ends. Kurt waits until the nurse leaves to give Blaine a small smile before he says, “Would you maybe — would you like to go out sometime? When I’m not dosed with Benedryl, I mean.”

Blaine stares at him, totally thrown.

“I swear, I clean up quite nice. I’m not normally covered in hives and dressed in yoga pants and an old ratty shirt.”

“Oh,” Blaine says finally. “No, I’m sure you do clean up quite nice. I believe you but — I can’t date a patient.”

Kurt smiles and gently waves his discharge papers. “Good thing I won’t be your patient in about five minutes.”

Blaine hesitates.

“You’re sweet,” Kurt says. “And you kept your calm when I was raving like an insane person about the inevitability of my impending death on your uncomfortable yet surprisingly hygenic hospital bed. I know that’s probably a doctor thing and you learn how to do that in med school but, I don’t know. You mellowed me, Dr. Anderson, and I don’t know too many people that I can say that about.”

And Blaine thinks about it, god does he think about it. The guy is clearly attractive and yeah, a little bit on the crazy side but Blaine can’t deny he isn’t attracted to both of those things. But he forces himself to really _really_ think about it, like what they’d do and where they’d go for dinner and what he’d wear. That line of thinking immediately shuts down his hesitancy.

“I’m flattered,” Blaine says. “But I can’t.”

Kurt nods with a a crooked smile, clearly disappointed. “I understand,” he says. “But I meant what I said about not knowing too many people like you. If you ever think you need an extra friend in your life, I’m here for that, too.”

Blaine nods as he finishes filling out Kurt’s paperwork, quiet.

“My number is right there,” Kurt adds, pointing to the admission form he filled out earlier. “Just in case.”

Blaine nods again, still silent. He just wants Kurt to _go_ before he breaks down and says _yes, of course I’d go out with you, I’d be absolutely insane to say no_.

But Kurt leaves and Blaine watches him go. Suddenly, the curtain divider whips open and Tina is staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Are you _insane_? That’s like your dream guy and you just turned him down. What’s _wrong_ with you?”

Blaine sighs. “Did you _see_ him, Tina? He had Gucci shoes. His ‘old ratty shirt’ was last year’s McQueen. How in the world could I afford him as a boyfriend?”

Tina looks totally irritated. “He’s too _rich_ for you? God, you _are_ insane.”

“No,” he says, exasperated. “But I’m only in my fourth year of residency, Tina. I’m beyond poor. I don’t eat anything but spaghetti and Hamburger Helper. That guy obviously likes nice things and I wouldn’t be able to give them to him. Plus, we’re on call eighty hours a week. I’m supposed to — what? Have him wait around for me? Where would I take him, what would we do?”

She shakes her head. “Whatever. I don’t get you.”

:

He calls Kurt later that week and takes him up on his offer of friendship.

“I don’t have any friends not in the medical profession,” he explains to Kurt over the phone. “So I don’t know too many people like you, either.”

Kurt doesn’t need an explanation, though, and Blaine’s barely finished talking when Kurt’s already planned an entire movie night for the two of them.

Blaine’s pretty sure he’s playing with fire but he doesn’t care yet.

:

During his fifth year, they’re pretty inseparable. They’re best friends.

Or more specifically, they’re best friends that are in love with each other.

They spend most of Blaine’s days off on Kurt’s couch watching TV marathons or out walking in the park, standing way too close to be normal.

Kurt brings him food sometimes and they eat chicken salad sandwiches on the brief lunch or dinner break Blaine manages to take. He makes it to as many of Kurt’s shows as he can and tries not to feel too self-conscious when he leaves a small unassuming bouquet of inexpensive carnations in Kurt’s dressing room after curtain call.

They have themed movie marathons in Blaine’s cramped apartment and host pretend dinner parties at Kurt’s place where his friends come over and dress up for a night of frozen appetizers and pizza delivery.

Blaine finds ways to spend time with him without having to broadcast how poor he is. He takes Kurt to the zoo and even manages to talk him into bleacher seats at a baseball game.

At a back table in one of the cheap downtown coffee shops, Kurt watches Blaine carefully. “We’re not dating,” he says. “Because I remember you saying you couldn’t.”

Blaine blinks in surprise, not sure where the conversation is coming from.

“But that was awhile ago,” he continues. “And I guess I’m wondering if anything’s changed for you since then.”

Blaine looks down at his simple black coffee and then across to Kurt’s seven dollar mocha latte thing and sighs sadly.

“I can’t,” he says, not meeting Kurt’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Kurt’s quiet for a moment. “You don’t owe me an apology, Blaine. I just had to check, that’s all.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything and Kurt doesn’t push it.

:

During his sixth year, Kurt starts seeing someone. He’s nice enough and Blaine likes him as much as he could, as much as it’s possible to like someone dating the guy he’s in love with.

Blaine watches the two of them sometimes when they’re all out with a group of their friends to go to dinner or after one of Kurt’s shows when they’re hugging each other off to the side, Blaine serving as the perfectly awkward third wheel.

It’s a pretty awful experience but every time that he gets a dismally depressing paycheck, every time he has to blow Kurt off while on call, he remembers all over again why he’s doing what he’s doing.

They’re sitting at a Wendy’s one day, sharing fries and a Frosty, when Kurt looks across the table to meet Blaine’s gaze, eyes oddly serious. “Do you ever think about being with me?”

Blaine gives him a quizzical look. “I’m with you right now. We’re with each other all the time.”

“ _With_ me,” Kurt repeats.

Blaine stares at him and can’t think of what to say.

“I mean do you want to _be_ with me,” Kurt clarifies, face still weirdly calm. “Date me, move in with me, love me, that sort of thing.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says quietly. He wants to say _obviously, all the time_ but he can’t and the fact that they’re sharing a fast food value meal reinforces why. He chooses his words carefully and looks Kurt in the eye as he says, “I can’t give you want you want.”

Kurt nods and goes back to his fries. He looks a little disappointed but not surprised.

He clears his throat. “Plus, you — aren’t you seeing someone?” he asks with a pointed look.

“We broke up,” he says simply.

Blaine blinks. “Wait, what? When?”

“Yesterday,” he says casually. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” Blaine asks, eyes wide. “You dated him for like eight months.”

He shrugs.

But Blaine’s still thrown. “Why are you so calm about this? What happened?”

He shrugs again. “We both knew it was time. I was — am — in love with someone else. ”

He’s stunned silent. Kurt doesn’t seem to be looking for an answer or any kind of reply, though, so he just stays quiet and lets the words hang there.

:

During his seventh year, he barely even tries to pretend he’s not in love with Kurt.

They fight about dumb things like when Kurt leaves his shoes by the door every time he stays the night and Blaine _without fail_ trips over them every morning or about how Blaine accidentally leaves leftovers on Kurt’s kitchen table instead of in the refrigerator making his whole kitchen smell like cheap takeout Chinese. They fight about leaving the toilet paper roll empty or about what brand of bread to buy. Basically, they fight like they’re married.

He’s Kurt’s _plus one_ to spring weddings and Kurt’s his for summer block parties. They dress up in couples costumes for Halloween and celebrate holidays together, Blaine spending Christmas with Kurt’s family and Kurt staying with Blaine’s over Thanksgiving. For their birthdays, it’s just the two of them and a quiet night in. They spend New Year’s Even together and share an intense, heated look at midnight.

And one weekend, over a bowl of generic brand spaghetti, Kurt looks up at him with a casual expression and says, “So is it that you’re not attracted to me?”

Blaine’s eyebrows rise. “Uh, what?”

“We do everything together, Blaine. Half of my family thinks we’re together and my grandmother keeps asking if we’re ready to give her great-grandchildren yet.”

Blaine’s mouth falls open a little. “They … what?”

Kurt takes a bite of his spaghetti like maybe this is the most casual conversation they’ve ever had. “I’m just wondering if that’s what it is. When you’re not here then I’m at your place. We’re more of a couple then most people we know. So I just had to ask — are we not together because you’re not attracted to me?”

He swallows thickly and tries to figure out exactly what words to use. “I hate telling you _no_ every time we talk about this,” he says quietly. Because it’s true. It’s borderline impossible to keep saying it when all he wants to do is reach out, hold him tight, and maybe never let go.

Kurt nods. “Fair enough,” he says.

:

And then things change. And then Blaine becomes a legit attending physician, board certified. He doesn’t have to work a gazillion hours a week. Also? Blaine starts making _money_.

He starts making money, however, right when Kurt starts a new relationship. Blaine’s mildly disappointed, sure, but it’s not going to stop him from buying his best friend things. All kinds of things.

He stops by Kurt’s apartment one night after work and walks right in using the key Kurt gave him ages ago. Kurt and Adam-something-or-other are watching a movie on TV when Blaine holds up the shoe box to show it to Kurt.

“Ta-da,” he says with a smile.

Kurt’s eyes widen and he jumps off the couch to meet him by the door. “No, you did not.”

“I did,” Blaine says proudly.

“Blaine, how did you afford these? God, I make one comment _one_ time about these shoes and now you just walk through my door holding them out like it’s nothing?”

He shrugs, still smiling, as he leans in to give Kurt a friendly peck on the cheek. “It _was_ nothing, Kurt,” he says. Because these shoes are just the tip of the iceberg. Blaine’s going to buy him so much shit from here on out that he’ll have to get a new house just to keep it all. And then maybe he’ll buy him a new house.

:

Three days later, he buys season tickets to Chicago Theater. Kurt gapes at him.

“Hey, Adam,” Blaine says pleasantly with a wave. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner, just wanted to drop these off for Kurt.”

Kurt gapes some more and Blaine legitimately can’t remember the last time Kurt was speechless. It’s awesome.

:

There is now a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers waiting for Kurt backstage after every single performance, all signed with a simple heart.

:

He takes Kurt shopping for a whole weekend under the guise of needing things for the house he’s thinking about buying. Kurt picks out the bedspread he’d love and his favorite set of cutlery, finds a shower curtain he can’t take his eyes off of, sees an antique lamp he falls in love with.

Blaine buys everything then leaves it all at Kurt’s place at the end of the weekend. He stares around his apartment that’s now full of things he loves but never actually thought he’d own. When Kurt protests, Blaine pulls Kurt’s hand into his own and quietly says, “I want you to be surrounded by nice things. Let me do this.”

:

There’s an antique pin Blaine buys at an auction that Kurt obsessed over online and a state-of-the-art new laptop that he buys, telling Kurt it’ll be easier to read rave reviews about his play on there than by digging around for articles in the practically-obsolete newspapers.

:

Blaine hosts dinner parties and sometimes Adam’s there but usually Kurt comes alone to serve as Blaine’s perfect co-host. It’s a hint of the life that Blaine knows is waiting for them someday and he’s practically thrumming with anticipation for it to start.

:

They’re out at some ritzy brunch place when Kurt mentions his break-up. He waits and _waits_ for Kurt to follow-through with the question he always asks around this time of year, waits for Kurt to ask why they’re not dating so that for the very first time ever, Blaine can finally say _yes_ to him.

But Kurt doesn’t ask.

“So why did you two break up?” Blaine asks cautiously, not really sure yet how Kurt feels about the end of the relationship.

He shrugs and takes a sip of his Mimosa. “There was someone else,” Kurt says vaguely. “As there always seems to be.”

“Oh?” Blaine asks hopefully. “Another guy that thought you were in love with someone else?”

“No,” Kurt answers, meeting his eyes. “This time, the guy thought someone was in love with _me_.”

Blaine swallows. “Oh?” he asks again.

Kurt lets out a resigned sigh. “So … is he?” It’s clear by his tone what he expects the answer to be.

“God, _so_ in love, Kurt,” he says, words rushing out. “You have no idea just how much.”

Kurt looks startled. “What?”

Blaine leans over the table. “I’m so in love with you. I have been — years now, Kurt. It’s a — god it’s such a relief to finally say this, to finally tell you about how I feel — how _much_ I feel.”

Kurt just blinks at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I haven’t been able to give you everything you deserve until right now, Kurt. I haven’t been able to buy you things and give you my attention and take you places. Not until now. Now I’m an actual doctor and I have all the time in the world to give you everything you want.”

Kurt clenches his jaw. “You are so, so stupid.”

Blaine flinches and his smile almost fades. “Uh.”

“I loved you when you were poor, Blaine. I never needed any of these things. _Ever_. I would trade it all if it meant I got to be with you for the past four years, cheap wine and all.”

Blaine cocks his head and hums as he pulls tickets out of his jacket. “So you _don’t_ want these tickets to Europe?”

Kurt’s mouth falls open. “You bought us —” he starts before shaking his head and composing himself. “I don’t need any of this, you know. I loved you without it and I would keep loving you if you didn’t have it.”

“I know,” Blaine says quietly. “But don’t take this away from me, okay? I _want_ to buy you things and take you places and give you the whole world.”

Kurt hesitates but then his resolve crumbles. “Okay,” he agrees, shaking his head to himself. “Buy me things, take me places, then.”

:

They still fight over dumb things like leaving carryout on their fancy, expensive kitchen counter or leaving the empty toilet paper roll on top of the fancy, custom-made bathroom fixtures. They fight about leaving the lights on and what kind of windows to get for their new house and yeah, they even fight over the fact that they’re actually building a house until Blaine reminds Kurt for the millionth time that he worked hard for ten years to spend this money how he wanted to and how he wants to spend it is by surrounding Kurt with nice things.

Blaine loves his job and he loves coming home to Kurt. It’s a better lifetime than he could have imagined.

: : :

**Q** uidditch: 99 Problems But a Snitch Ain’t One:  


_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw_

_If you’ve a steady mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning_

_Will always find their kind._

:

Blaine Anderson is not a fighter. Seriously, he’s a _Huffelpuff_ and they’re not exactly known for being difficult or petty. No, they leave that to the other houses.

Kurt Hummel is also not a fighter. He’s a Ravenclaw and they’re not exactly known for being foolish or immature.

And yet together, Kurt and Blaine seem to be all of these things.

It starts at the very beginning of their very first year. They get sorted and immediately sit with their own table. Even at eleven, Blaine is already popular and well-liked and _happy_ and perfectly at home with his other Hufflepuffs. And even at eleven, Kurt feels lonely and like an outsider that doesn’t quite belong.

The next morning, their first morning at Hogwarts, Kurt happens to sit at a table for the Hufflepuffs and some girl next to Blaine snaps at him.

“You can’t sit here,” she tells Kurt, which is a totally un-Hufflepuff thing to say. “This is for Hufflepuffs only.”

Kurt looks a little surprised and he glances quickly at Blaine. Blaine — who says nothing. He knows he should and normally he _would_ , but for some reason he doesn’t. Maybe he’s desperate to fit in or too preoccupied with forming that sense of Hufflepuff solidarity but for whatever reason — he doesn’t. And as he watches Kurt walk away, Blaine suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

He sees Kurt in their Potions class a few days later and tries to sit next to him but Kurt pushes his own books across the table before he has a chance.

“I’m Blaine,” he says cautiously.

“I know who you are,” Kurt says without looking up. “The boy who wouldn’t let me sit with him.”

“That wasn’t me,” Blaine argues. “That was the girl next to me.”

Kurt meets his eyes, a cool expression on his face. “And you were just oh so inviting.”

Blaine feels a sudden pang of shame. “I — I know. I should have said something.”

Kurt’s expression doesn’t change. “You can’t sit here. This is for decent people only.”

He blinks, caught of guard. “I said I was sorry,” Blaine says.

“And I said you can’t sit here.”

Blaine narrows his eyes. “You’re supposed to forgive people when they apologize.”

Kurt ignores him which just irritates Blaine even more.

“Fine,” he says. “Who wants to sit here anyway?”

That’s their only conversation during that first year.

:

Second year starts out with that same frosty silence.

Blaine is still happy and popular and totally at ease with his life except for the few moments every so often when he sees Kurt studying by himself in the library or sitting alone outside on the steps with a book. Those are the few small moments he doesn’t feel happy, that he doesn’t feel good about himself.

He tries to join Kurt on the steps one day but Kurt doesn’t even look up.

“Seat’s taken,” he says, eyes still on his book.

“Kurt, no one’s sitting out here and it’s totally empty.”

Kurt ignores him just like he usually does when Blaine tries to make eye contact in class or in the hallway.

“You don’t _own_ these steps, you know,” he says, borderline petulant. He sits down then immediately jumps back up when something shocks him. He looks over at Kurt who has a small smile he’s trying to hide. “What kind of spell was _that_?” Blaine asks, angry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kurt answers, still smiling and still reading his book.

Blaine crowds into his space, hovering over him. “Holding a grudge is _stupid_ ,” he says. “You’re being stupid.”

And that gets Kurt’s attention. He looks up and meets Blaine’s gaze, eyes narrowed.

“ _I’m_ stupid?” he retorts. “I’m in the smartest house here, Blaine. You’re in the house with the _everyone elses_ in this school.”

Blaine takes a startled step back because it’s the worst insult for a Hufflepuff, calling them the _everyone elses_ , implying that they’re a house that takes everyone that doesn’t fit anywhere else even though it’s not true.

“Whatever,” Blaine says. “I don’t even know why I try.”

And he doesn’t, not for the rest of the year.

:

Third year is basically the same. They get teamed up against each other for a month long Herbology competition and Kurt stops at nothing to sabotage him, casting spells that Blaine’s never even heard of to make Blaine’s plants grow and then shrink and then wither away.

“You’re a cheater,” Blaine grits out after class one day.

“Prove it,” Kurt bites back. “And stop acting so high and mighty. I know it was you that stole my scarf and my nice robes.”

Blaine doesn’t argue because he _didn’t_ but he knows about the few Slytherins that did and he didn’t say anything to stop them.

“Stay away from my project,” Blaine says.

“Stay away from _me,_ ” Kurt says back.

:

Fourth year starts out a little more promising but then ends up even worse than the years before.

The first time they see each other and are forced to make conversation is the weekend before their holiday break as they both wait outside the Gryffindor common room.

They awkwardly make eye contact but don’t say anything for a few minutes.

“Waiting for someone?” Blaine asks finally.

“Obviously,” Kurt answers, rolling his eyes. He pauses and seems to have an internal battle with himself about whether or not he should be polite for once. “Finn,” he explains. “He’s my — we’re family.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, surprised. “I’m waiting for Sam. He’s a friend of mine.”

Kurt nods then smiles. “At least we’re not Gryffindors, right?”

Blaine smiles back. “Right. I don’t know why everyone thinks they’re so awesome. They’re so —”

“Impulsive?” Kurt fills in. “Short-sighted? Dense?”

He laughs quietly. “I was going to say naïve, but okay, I like yours, too.”

Kurt opens his mouth to say something else but Sam and Finn choose that moment to come out and interrupt the moment. They wave goodbye to each other and over break, Blaine can’t stop wondering what Kurt was going to say.

When they get back, though, things fall apart. Kurt starts getting teased for being gay and it ends up becoming a huge deal that causes all kinds of inner-house tension, mostly because Finn finds the need to start a fight with anyone who even looks at Kurt funny.

It’s sort of sweet in a juvenile, immature, Gryffindor kind of way.

Kurt sits by himself even more, spends even more time alone in the library with a book. Blaine sits next to him at a table in the back one day.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Kurt looks up, eyes already suspicious. “What do _you_ want? Okay, let’s hear it, what kind of insults do you have? We’ll see if I’ve heard them already.”

Blaine looks hurt. “You really think I’d say something cruel to you right now?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, sounding weary and exhausted. “I don’t even know anything about you, Blaine.”

Blaine pauses. “Hi, I’m Blaine. I’m a Hufflepuff and really nice if you get to know me, even if I _have_ made a few mistakes in the past. And — and I’m gay, too, Kurt.”

And for some reason, it’s the worst thing he could say because Kurt’s eyes narrow and his whole body goes rigid. “ _You’re_ gay?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, frowning. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Kurt echoes, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Someone stole my robes — _again,_ mind you — then hung them out the windows of one of the Astronomy towers. Someone erased all of my homework last week, everything that I worked the entire weekend on. And _you_ — you get off totally free because you’re Mr. Perfect.”

“Hey,” Blaine says defensively. “Don’t get mad at me. I’m not one of the people being mean to you. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Oh lucky me, thanks so much for _trying_ ,” Kurt grits out, grabbing his books and leaving Blaine sitting there alone. He sounds like he’s two steps away from crying and Blaine knows it’ll make it worse if he follows after him so … he doesn’t.

:

Year five is bad, too, but this one is all on Blaine. Kurt tries to be nice, he really does, but Blaine just can’t stop being a jerk.

It’s not Blaine’s fault, though. It’s his stupid Hufflepuff prefect.

Stupid Adam Crawford, the seventh year prefect that all the girls stare after longingly. Adam Crawford, the prefect that follows Kurt around and carries his books and — ugh. Blaine can’t even think about it before getting tense and angry and sick.

Kurt sits next to Blaine during Potions since they were assigned as partners in the beginning of the school and offers him a weak smile. “Hi,” he says, obviously feeling out what kind of mood Blaine’s in, if he’ll be decent and polite or short and snippy.

But Blaine watched them at breakfast this morning leaning in close and laughing so he goes with short and snippy.

“Where’s your Hufflepuff boyfriend?” he asks bitterly.

Kurt sighs and turns away from Blaine to open his book, resigned to an entire class of an angry Blaine. “He’s not my boyfriend,” Kurt says for like the millionth time.

Blaine huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Does _he_ know that? Because I’m pretty sure—”

“Let’s not do this again,” Kurt interrupts. “I’m tired of it.”

Blaine clenches his jaw.

Afterward, he walks with Kurt down the hall. “Are we hanging out this weekend?” he says, voice sounding contrite. “I’m sorry about back there. The two of you — it bothers me. I don’t know why.”

Kurt gives him a skeptical look. “You don’t know why? Come on, Blaine. You’re smarter than that, even if you’re not a Ravenclaw.”

He walks ahead and Blaine stares after him. “Wait, what does that mean?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Never mind. I’ll see you this weekend.”

Blaine nods then sees Adam Crawford, stupid seventh year prefect, heading towards them. “Will you?” he asks, tone already bitter again. “Or would you rather spend it with your dumb Hufflepuff boyfriend?”

“I told you,” Kurt hisses. “He’s not _my_ anything. Stop being so childish.”

It continues like that until the end of the year when Adam finally graduates. Kurt sits next to Blaine in the Ravenclaw common room before they leave for the train home and he quietly says, “You’re going to miss your chance. He’s going to be gone before you can tell him how you feel.”

Blaine blinks. “What? Who?”

“Adam,” Kurt says carefully.

“Adam?” Blaine repeats, eyebrows raised. “What are you even talking about?”

Kurt smiles at him sadly. “Never mind.”

Blaine tries to figure out what Kurt’s not explaining because _ugh_ , no way could he seriously think Blaine has feelings for stupid Adam Crawford.

They sit beside each other on the train ride home but in silence.

When they step off the train onto the platform and see their families waiting for them, they turn to give each other a hug.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Adam,” Blaine says, lying through his teeth.

“No, you’re not,” Kurt laughs. “I know you really liked him.”

Blaine gives him a dubious look. “Uh, no.”

Kurt cocks his head. “No?”

“No,” Blaine says again forcefully. “But I know _you_ did and I’m sorry.”

Kurt reaches up to straighten Blaine’s bowtie. “He’s not the Hufflepuff I’m in love with,” he says quietly before heading towards his dad and brother.

Blaine stares after him because … _what the hell_.

They write letters over the summer but not about anything important. Blaine doesn’t want to say anything important in a letter.

:

They still fight in sixth year but in a totally different way.

“I love you, too,” Blaine says while they make out in the Room of Requirement. “In case I forgot to tell you.”

“You didn’t,” Kurt laughs between kisses. “You’ve made sure to tell me everyday since we got back to school.”

Blaine nods. “Okay, good.”

Then there’s not a whole lot of talking.

They straighten their robes and ties when they finally leave the room an hour later.

“See you on the Quidditch field tonight,” Kurt says with a teasing smile. “When Ravenclaw wins.”

“Oh whatever,” Blaine laughs with an eye roll. “Everyone knows we’re better.”

“We’re smarter,” Kurt argues, taking a few steps towards Blaine.

“We’re more resilient,” Blaine replies, taking a step closer.

“We’re quick thinkers.”

“We’re patient.” Another step.

Kurt opens his mouth to add something else but instead he leans forward and tries to close the distance between them.

Blaine forces himself to turn away and instead grabs Kurt’s hand and pulls him right back into the Room of Requirement.

They sit next to each other during the match later, right down the middle so that they’re still both technically on their own side.

“Know what I love about you?” Blaine asks as he watches the Ravenclaw players evade his Hufflepuff players over and over.

“What’s that?” Kurt says.

“You _are_ smart. And you’re creative. And you can think on your feet, come up with a solution to a problem before anyone else even realizes that there _is_ a problem.”

“So basically,” Kurt teases, “you love that I’m a Ravenclaw.”

Blaine shrugs and looks away so he doesn’t have to answer.

“What I love about _you_ , Blaine Anderson, is that you’re the most patient person I know. You’re kind and sincere and incredibly loyal to both me _and_ your house.”

It’s Blaine’s turn to smile. “So basically,” he echoes. “You love that I’m a Hufflepuff.”

Kurt smiles in response.

“And I’m hearing that you’d like to _be_ Hufflepuff.”

“You’re hearing wrong, then,” Kurt says with a raised eyebrow. “But I do like being in love with one.”

Blaine misses someone score a goal because there’s cheering going on around them but he doesn’t care which house it is. “And I love being in love with a Ravenclaw.”

Kurt cocks his head. “Something we can finally agree on.”

:

Seventh year, they break up.

It lasts seventeen minutes.

“All you talk about is leaving this school,” Blaine says, frustrated.

“Because I can’t wait to leave,” Kurt says back. “This school wasn’t the same for me as it was for you. Can’t you see that?”

“But — it’s like you can’t even wait to get out here. How’s that supposed to make me feel?”

“This isn’t about you, though,” Kurt argues. “It’s about me being free of this place.”

“Free?” Blaine asks, hurt. “You mean free of me.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what this is about. It’s not about _us_ , I don’t mean it like that.”

“But it _is_ about us,” Blaine says. “Because I’m part of this school and I was a part of your life while you were at this school. You’re making it sound like once this place is behind you, I’ll be behind you, too.”

“You’re reading into this,” Kurt says. “That’s not what I said—”

“Because if that’s what you’re planning on doing then why wait until the end of the year? We might as well end it now.”

Kurt flinches and watches Blaine for several long moments. “If that’s what you want,” he says neutrally.

He waits for Blaine to argue but Blaine is too busy feeling sorry for himself and feeling crushed that Kurt’s actually _agreeing_ to a break up.

Blaine lasts fifteen minutes in the Hufflepuff common room before bolting out and making his way towards the Ravenclaw house. He’s halfway there when he finds Kurt pacing the hallway, eyes red.

“Don’t break up with me,” Kurt pleads. “Please.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I won’t, I’m not.”

Seventeen minutes is long enough.

:

The fighting is sort of a lifelong thing for them, even post-Hogwarts.

“We’re not turning these curtains yellow and black, Blaine. This is non-negotiable.”

“Well, we’re not turning them blue and bronze, either,” he argues.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Don’t even try to say your colors look better together than mine do.”

He won’t, obviously, because they _don’t_ look better but hey, he’s a Hufflepuff and loyal until the end. “I stick by my colors,” he says instead. “Because I’m faithful and loyal and true.”

Kurt rolls his eyes again. “And I say you’re wrong. Because I’m smarter than you.”

Blaine wants to be insulted, he really really does, but Kurt makes him smile and laugh in a way no one else can.

“How about blue and black?” Kurt compromises - because he’s smart.

“Good idea,” Blaine agrees - because he’s loyal.

There’s a lot of fighting in that lifetime but there’s also a lot of making up and that’s what counts.

: : :

_ **R** ebel Rebel: _

Blaine Anderson is an accidental delinquent.

It starts in sixth grade when he moves to Lima and has to transfer to McKinley Junior High. He moves halfway through the school year which definitely sucks because all of the other junior high kids know each other now; they’ve all had a semester to join clubs and try out for sports and fall into a clique. Blaine, however, walks into the school the first week of January knowing nothing, knowing no one.

He starts the morning out in his guidance counselor’s office and she gives him a wary look.

“I’m not sure why you got kicked out of your old school, Blaine,” she starts, “but you have a chance to start fresh here. If I were you, I’d think really hard about that before you get off on the wrong foot.”

Blaine stares at her. “Wait, what? I didn’t get kicked out. My dad got transferred here a few weeks ago.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “Typically the mid-year new kids are troubled youth. Kids with behavioral problems. I’m only suggesting that you think long and hard before re-creating that reputation here.”

“No, seriously,” he says. “I don’t have a reputation. I was fifth grade class president.”

She hands him a pamphlet ( _If You Keep It Up, Your Parents Will Stop Loving You)_ and excuses him. He leaves, a little confused and a lot insulted, and immediately gets confronted by a tough looking kid with a Mohawk.

 _Crap_ , he thinks, _and so it begins_. Blaine hasn’t even been there for an hour and he already has a bully waiting for him.

“New kid, right?” asks Mohawk.

Blaine sighs and mentally prepares himself for a beatdown. “Yes,” he answers. “I’m Blaine.”

“Puck,” the kid says. He eyes Blaine’s bowtie and sweater vest. “I dig your look, man. It’s like you don’t give a shit. You don’t care what anyone says because you could deliver an epic ass-kicking if they mouth off.”

Blaine frowns. “But I _do_ care,” he argues. “And no I couldn’t.”

Puck ignores him and throws an arm over Blaine’s shoulder. “We need another badass here, Blaine. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“What ropes?” Blaine asks, wondering when the inevitable beatdown is headed his way. “Can I go to class now?”

Puck laughs. “Good one. _Class_.”

Blaine stares at him.

“We don’t have class until third period,” Puck clarifies. “Shop class. The first two don’t count. They’re lame ones like math and English, shit no one needs.”

He’s pulled along by Puck, arm still draped over his shoulder, so he doesn’t try to break free and head back to English. He just sort of … goes along with it. He’s sort of in awe of Puck, actually, because he looks like an eight grader and swears like people in movies.

Puck leads them outside and they head towards the bleachers where they proceed to hang out for the next hour with a few of the other junior high delinquents. Blaine wants to be freaked out and scared but mostly he’s confused about how he managed to become friends with the resident badass. And he’s confused about how _nice_ they are.

He doesn’t know how it happens but they become his friends. The girls with the neon hair that hang out under the bleachers, the guys that talk back to the teachers and draw dirty pictures on the bathroom walls, and _Puck_ … they all treat them like he’s one of them, like he’s part of the crowd.

They think he got kicked out of his last school no matter how many times he tries to explain that he _didn’t_. He’s a mid-year transfer so they all assume he got expelled or released from juvie and after a few weeks, right when he starts to feel included and accepted and _wanted_ , he stops pushing the issue.

Blaine has friends. They’re delinquents, sure, but they’re friends.

:

He starts each semester that he’s at McKinley Junior High trying to prove _he’s_ not a delinquent but it’s only two weeks into his transfer before he gets off on the wrong foot. He spends the next two and a half years reinforcing it, no matter how hard he tries.

It’s always an accident and he always happens to be where he is at just the wrong moment.

(In sixth grade, there was the incident with the fire alarm. It’s a long story involving newly waxed floors, the school mascot, and a bunch of reddish orangey paper streamers superglued to the mascot’s head. If Blaine was a little more rational then yes, he would have realized they were paper streamers but no, he was caught of guard by the high school football JV team running around the hallways in the wrestling team’s singlet uniforms for some sort of hazing ritual and he genuinely thought Willy the Titan’s head was _on fire_. Setting off the fire alarm seemed like the logical thing to do. Innocent mistake, okay, and it cost him five weeks of after school detention mopping and scrubbing and buffing and waxing every McKinley Junior High linoleum hallway. He spent the rest of the year getting awed looks from most of his classmates and even the seventh and eight graders seemed impressed.

In seventh grade, there was the thing with the vandalized lockers. Again, total accident. He forgot a book in his locker so after a Saturday detention, he headed over to grab it for the week only to see a black graffiti slur sprayed across it with bright white spray paint. He was sort of confused because most people in the school were borderline afraid of him and it seemed like a risky thing to do. Blaine knew his luck, though, and was relatively confident that he’d get blamed for defacing his own locker so he headed to the hardware store to buy some light blue spray paint that he was pretty sure was the exact color of his locker. He got to school early on Monday to undo the damage and it only took a few seconds of spraying to realize that the cap color of the can was _not_ the color of the paint and yeah, there was suddenly a few bright red streaks standing out loud and proud right in the middle of his pale blue locker. He tried to wipe it off which only smeared it and made it ten times worse, obviously, and he tried desperately to figure how he could fix it when he heard a throat clearing behind him.

Blaine turned, totally resigned to another a few months of detention, only to see Principal Figgins staring at him. He tried to explain that he was only trying to undo the damage done to his own locker and the red paint was a _total accident_ but his principal seemed unconvinced.

“Your locker is three twenty three,” Principal Figgins pointed out.

Blaine glanced up at his defaced locker to see two thirty two and shook his head sadly as he looked over to his own clean, totally untouched locker across the hall. It landed him another five weeks of after school detention of scrubbing and cleaning every locker in the junior high with a _toothbrush_. Not the best way to start off seventh grade, obviously. But the sixth graders seemed terrified of him and the eighth graders steered clear. Puck and the other bleacher delinquents were the only ones that treated him like a normal human being.

And then eighth grade was the whole thing with the flooding of the second floor (and eventually first floor) boys’ Junior High bathrooms. It was legitimately just bad luck because all he did was _turn on a faucet_ when the porcelain basin fell off the wall, the pipe exploded, and the water started pouring _buckets_ onto the floor. The force of it made the sink a few feet over fly off the wall, landing so hard on the floor that it shattered and actually _fell through the floor_ creating an impressive hole that formed a nice gateway for the buckets of water to fall directly into the first floor bathroom.

Blaine desperately tried to wipe up some water with the cheap paper-thin toilet paper when one of the only two male eighth grade cheerleaders walked in.

His eyes went to the rapidly flooding floor to the toilet paper in Blaine’s hand to the terrified panicky look on Blaine’s face.

“You’re not seriously trying to wipe that up with one-ply tissue paper?” the cheerleader asked, eyebrow arched.

“What else am I supposed to do?” Blaine asked, eyes wide.

The boy stared at him for a second more before reaching for one of the bright yellow _Caution: Wet Floor_ signs. He put it in the hallway directly in front of the door and said, “I’ll get the maintenance guy. You keep on mopping up one square inch at a time and let me know how that works out for you.”

He left and Blaine couldn’t help but stare after him for a minute as he realized that the cheerleader was the first person at the school to not run away in fear. He didn’t seem afraid of Blaine _at all_ , really. He wasn’t quite sure how to process it.

Puck was pumped about it, telling Blaine that no one in the history of the school had ever destroyed two rooms simultaneously.)

Which brings the story to the here and now at McKinley High School. Blaine decides that this is it. It’s his chance. He can start new. He doesn’t have to be that badass middle school kid. No, he can just be Blaine, the quiet kid with the bowties. And it’s great _in theory_ until four days into his freshman year when he accidentally breaks one of the shelves in the library, the one with a ton of reference books. When it falls, the shelf below it can’t bear the weight of two times the amount of books so _that_ one breaks and then the shelf below _that_ one breaks thanks to three times the amount of reference books piled on top. Blaine watches in horror and disbelief as the entire metal bookshelf and the two on either side fall apart bit by bit.

When the librarian comes over, she’s even more horrified than Blaine to see upwards of fifty reference books scattered on the ground, some ripped, some bent, some with their spines broken in weird angles. He assumes he has another few weeks of afterschool detention alphabetizing the card catalog but nope, he just gets banned _for life_ from the school library. Awesome.

No one seems surprised that he starts the school year off with some vandalism, especially not his classmates or the sophomores and juniors who remember him from junior high. Even the seniors seem to steer clear of him and his delinquent bleacher friends.

The final straw is the seventh day of his Algebra class. The cheerleader is in his class, the one from the junior high bathroom, the only kid that hasn’t looked at him like he was potential high school drop out material. Blaine doesn’t know his name and doesn’t really have a way to find out. He can’t go check out the yearbooks in the library because hello, banned for life. And he can’t ask Puck or one of his other friends because if he tries that, he risks endless hours of mocking and teasing and ridicule that will probably last the rest of high school. Cheerleaders don’t talk to high school delinquents; it’s simple.

He passes him a note that Friday. It’s not too complicated or personal, just _Hey, I’m Blaine. I remember you from last year. Thanks for the help. What’s your name?_

Blaine folds it up several times then hands the note to Puck and nods in the cheerleader’s direction so that Puck can help him out. Puck smiles, nods, then spends five minutes drawing graphic pictures on the outside of the note. Blaine starts to slightly worry.

Puck passes it to Finn, one of the guys Blaine sort of knows but only by name. Finn opens it up a little then starts drawing his own obscene pictures. Blaine starts to worry a little more.

Finn hands it to Santana who opens it up again and draws her own pictures and adds some words that Blaine can’t see from his position two seats over and one seat back. He’s moved from marginal worry to full on panic. When the cheerleader sees that note, he’ll understandably assume the ten pencil-drawn penises are from Blaine.

Santana moves forward to nudge the cheerleader and get his attention but before she can, Ms. Corcoran intercepts and reads it silently to herself. When she’s finished, she looks over to Blaine and gives him a surprised look, probably thanks to what he can only assume are graphic cartoons and vulgar jokes. He wants to say _the penises aren’t mine_ but he’s pretty sure that it’ll make everything worse.

Needless to say, he gets another month of detention. The cheerleader gives him a curious look on his way out after class, thankfully oblivious to everything that just happened. Blaine’s immediately embarrassed as he realizes his friends would have been right to mock him. Like a cheerleader would want anything to do with a screwup delinquent like Blaine.

As he sits in detention that afternoon, he realizes that it’s basically hopeless at that point. If the world thinks he’s a screw up, then why the hell doesn’t he embrace it? Might as well enjoy the perks of it if he’s going to stuck with that label for the next four years.

:

Blaine spends half of his freshman year under the bleachers with the girls that now deem themselves the Skanks, and with the few other guys that haven’t been expelled yet.

“What’s your beef with Kurt?” Puck asks him one day as they sit on the couch under the bleachers.

“What?” Blaine asks. “Who?”

“Kurt,” Puck says again. “That cheerleader you’re always watching.”

Blaine blinks. “Kurt,” he echoes. “I never knew his name. And I’m not always watching him, okay?”

Puck eyes him. “I’d be careful, man,” he warns. “That kid could probably kick your ass.”

Blaine tries to figure out the logic behind that seeing as the guy looks like he’s ten. “Noted,” he says.

By the end of his freshman year, he realizes that Puck’s right; Blaine _is_ always watching him, though he can’t figure out why.

:

Sophomore year starts out kind of nice. First of all, he’s not a freshman anymore and more importantly, it’s the first time he’s started a school year by not caring about his reputation. It’s kind of freeing.

But Kurt’s in three of his classes and it makes Blaine nervous and tense for reasons he can’t explain.

“He’s not going to date you,” Puck tells him during shop class. “Forget about it.”

“I know,” Blaine says defensively, without thinking. “Wait — I mean — I’m not _trying_ to date him. He’s just some kid that — look, I don’t like him, okay?”

Puck looks bored and doesn’t argue. “Whatever, dude. Just remember that those kids, that pep squad crowd, they don’t want anything to do with a Lima Loser.”

Blaine nods and tries not to let his disappointment show. It’s not like he didn’t know that already.

By the end of the year, though, he gives up pretending that he doesn’t care. Puck calls him out on it but Blaine just shrugs it off. “Kurt’s funny and smart and cute and even if we never talk, he doesn’t look at me like I’m a high school delinquent.”

“Whatever, man,” he says. “It’s your choice. If you want him to laugh in your face then be my guest.”

There’s something there that Blaine doesn’t get, something about Quinn that Puck isn’t telling him, but he can’t bring himself to care. He can watch Kurt from afar; it isn’t hurting anyone.

:

And then junior year happens and Kurt comes back _hot_. Something happened over the summer and Kurt went from _yeah, he’s adorable_ to _holy shit, he’s hot._

Suddenly, everyone wants to be near him. Everyone wants to _date_ him. It annoys the hell out of Blaine.

“I saw him first. I’ve liked him for years,” he complains to Puck, eyes narrowed as he watches some senior lean against Kurt’s locker with a cocky grin. “He was mine first.”

Puck turns to him and gives him the most serious look Blaine has ever seen him give. “Dude, he was _never_ yours.”

After a moment, Blaine nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

:

Blaine watches Kurt a lot his junior year. Like, _a lot._ They even sit by each other in a few classes.

One day in French, he notices that Kurt looks distracted and a little sad. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

Kurt looks over, startled. Blaine’s never said a word to him in the two months they’ve been in the class. “What?” he asks. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow and doesn’t say anything.

Kurt’s quiet and seems to think something over. “My boyfriend,” he says finally. “Or I guess my ex-boyfriend. He — well, he went to check out some colleges last week. He’s a senior.”

Blaine waits.

“And he — he causally mentioned last night that he cheated on me,” Kurt finishes. He smiles weakly. “So it hasn’t been the best day.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, blinking. “That’s — I’m sorry.”

Kurt shrugs and the bell rings.

It takes Blaine about fifteen minutes to find out who Kurt’s ex-boyfriend is. It takes him less than that to find out where this Adam Crawford lives. And it takes less than thirty seconds to convince Puck to help him out.

By ten p.m., Adam Crawford’s Jeep is sitting in his driveway, all four tires punctured and flat, engine carefully removed and sitting neatly on the hood.

:

Kurt sprains his ankle towards the end of football season. He only misses two games but he looks miserable as he stumbles around the stairs on his crutches. Blaine doesn’t know how to comfort him or cheer him up. He’s not too good with words that way.

But he _does_ know how to blackmail a few integral members of the school board and suddenly, there’s a handicap ramp at every entrance and Kurt stops having a hard time getting around.

:

There’s a football player that’s always harassing Kurt, doesn’t get that no means no. Blaine has to stand down the hall and watch it happen day after day, feeling useless and helpless, until he learns that the douchebag has two strikes against him. Puck scores some fireworks, Santana breaks into his locker, Blaine anonymously reports a tip to the principal, and two days later, the kid is finally expelled.

Kurt smiles more after that.

:

Three days before Christmas break, Blaine overhears Kurt telling Quinn about some pin at an antique store downtown. He describes it in detail then mourns the fact that he spent his entire month’s allowance on tickets to a Katy Perry concert.

He finds the store easily after school. Puck and Santana pitch in to distract the sales people while Blaine sneaks around the counter and picks the lock to the display case.

It’s sitting in Kurt’s locker on their last day of classes.

:

Over Christmas, Blaine bribes the techie nerdy AV wheelchair kid to sneak him into the school’s computer system so he can change a few of his grades. By the next semester, Blaine’s sitting right next to Kurt in the AP classes.

:

Blaine gets caught stealing the mascot from their rival school. It’s scores him and a few others Saturday detentions for two months.

When he shows up to school that first weekend, the varsity cheerleaders are practicing outside. Blaine’s confused for a few minutes because it’s _March_ and he’s never seen them practicing outside, much less in mid-winter. Then he realizes he can spend his three hours cleaning up trash while he watches Kurt Hummel and the other cheerleaders do whatever it is they do and he stops being confused because whatever, he doesn’t care about the details.

The next Saturday, he spends his morning shoveling the McKinley parking lot. The cheerleaders practice outside again. Blaine decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The next weekend has him scrubbing the inside of the dumpster. The cheerleaders are there yet again. They’re practically frostbitten in their short skirts and sleeveless tops but Blaine totally doesn’t care, not if he gets to see Kurt jumping around in those skintight polyester pants.

And the following Saturday, he’s sentenced to cleaning the outdoor courtyard, from scrubbing the tables to shoveling the cement to de-icing the stairs to buffing the fences. The cheerleaders are there _again._ It’s distracting and it takes Blaine twice as long to get his cleaning done. Ten minutes before he’s allowed to leave, Kurt shows up by his side.

“Are you going to ask me out or not?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

Blaine looks over at him, startled. “What?”

“Why do you think we’ve been having cheerleading practices outside, Blaine? I was giving you an _opportunity_ but I think I’ll die of hypothermia before you ever work up the nerve.”

He blinks. “Wait, you _want_ me to—”

“I’ve heard rumors about you, you know,” Kurt interrupts.

Blaine grimaces. “Chances are they’re not true. I’ve never punched a teacher or set fire to to the Smithsonian or lived in an abandoned—”

“I’ve heard that a few of my more … unwelcome and zealous admirers have been expelled.”

Blaine freezes.

“I’ve heard that someone picked flowers from the Lima Historical society and got suspended for vandalism the day before some brightly colored lilies showed up in my locker.”

Blaine swallows, silent.

“I’ve heard that someone broke into school last weekend and was almost arrested for public intoxication before it was determined that he was just suffering from an allergic reaction to his codeine-infused cough syrup.” He pauses. “Strange that you had strep throat last weekend and I had a designer silk bowtie in my locker on Monday morning.”

Blaine stares at him, wide-eyed. “Listen, Kurt—”

“And weird about those handicap ramps showing up two days after I sprained my ankle last semester.”

He’s silent, not sure what to say.

Kurt takes a step forward. “There’s a common theme, Blaine. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“Oh?” Blaine asks, voice strained.

“Yes, _oh,”_ Kurt says. “I seem to be involved in each of these scenarios.”

Blaine is quiet again.

Kurt takes another step closer. “I don’t need a white knight, Blaine.”

Blaine looks apologetic and embarrassed and really, really guilty. “I know you don’t. And I’m genuinely sorry—”

“Not that I _mind_ having one, of course,” Kurt continues. “It’s quite nice, actually.”

Blaine drops his rag and his toothbrush and loses all interest in cleaning the chain-link fence. “You … don’t mind?” he asks, confused.

“I don’t mind,” Kurt says quietly. “In fact, I have tickets to a concert next weekend. It’s second row, right by all the crazy diehard fans and who knows what could happen if—”

Blaine takes that last step forward until there are only inches between them. “No one will hurt you,” he says, eyes serious. “No one will touch you.”

Kurt gives him a small, shy smile. “No?”

“No,” Blaine repeats emphatically. “No one, not while I’m around.”

:

Blaine mistakenly thinks that now that he’s dating clean-cut, respectable cheerleader Kurt Hummel, the student body will sort of forget about the whole teenage delinquent thing and he can spend the rest of his junior year being just a normal kid. And maybe it would have worked if it wasn’t for his two week suspension just three days after he and Kurt finally start dating. Again, _total_ accident.

He’s sitting in the computer lab trying to finish an essay when he gets an email from Brandon titled _Algebra Homework_ and it’s not until he’s clicking on the link when he realizes that a) he doesn’t know a Brandon and b) he doesn’t even take Algebra.

It’s too late, though, because suddenly, the entire room fills with grunts and groans and awful porno noises because there is actual, real, _vivid_ porno now flashing across Blaine’s computer monitor. He’s torn; he can either turn away from the computer screen and run out of the room in a panic or he could turn _towards_ the computer screen in order to find the volume button or to close the window down. He hesitates for a moment too long because when he finally manages to shut the video off, the teacher has already made her way over and judging by the horrified look on her face, she saw exactly what the naked delivery boy was doing to the naked housewife.

His teacher gives him two weeks of lunchtime detention and two weeks of after school detention and when Blaine tries to argue that _hello, there were breasts in that video and why would I spend my study hall watching pornography involving breasts,_ she tacks on two Saturday afternoon detentions, too.

(Kurt delivers lunch on both Saturdays, homemade sandwiches in a brown paper bag addressed to _My Delinquent Boyfriend.)_

:

Senior year is a bust, too. Mostly everyone is still terrified of him, including half of his boyfriend’s friends. Blaine tries _so hard_ and he thinks he’s making headway but then there’s the Chemistry lab meltdown and all of his progress is undone.

He’s not even exactly sure how it happened, actually. All he knows is that he maybe put too much of one chemical in his beaker and not enough of another chemical because the mixture turns a deep dark red which he knows is definitely a problem because everyone else’s is a pale blue. Somehow, it spills out of his hand and the Formica counter top starts to melt everywhere that Blaine’s deep red concoction touches it. Then, of course, he drops the whole damn beaker and the linoleum _floor_ starts to melt. He frantically tries to pour some water on both the floor and the counter top but it just makes everything clump together and turn black.

Blaine blinks at the mess around him, watches it _spread,_ and tries to take a deep calming breath, which might not be the best thing to do while standing in the middle of a noxious chemical spill.

So he passes out.

He regains consciousness on one of the cots in the nurse’s office and sees Kurt sitting next to him, pushing Blaine’s hair off of his forehead.

“Well, hello, there,” Kurt says quietly with a crooked smile.

Blaine swallows and tries to ignore his pounding headache. “Am I dead?”

Kurt huffs out a laugh. “Are you — no, Blaine, you’re not _dead_. You did, however, manage to quarantine the entire Chemistry lab.”

He closes his eyes. “Oh god, I’m probably expelled.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “No, you’re not expelled. Get some more rest, Blaine.”

He falls asleep again and doesn’t wake up until the last bell of the day. He sits up, groggy, and sees Kurt at the doorway, leaning on the frame and talking to the school nurse.

“I’m here to sign out my arsonist boyfriend,” he tells her. She says something that Blaine can’t hear and Kurt smiles at her. “I promise. No school vandalism of any sort. I’ll keep my eye on him.”

Blaine grins when Kurt sits next to him on the cot. “My arsonist boyfriend?” he echoes with a raised eyebrow.

Kurt shrugs and tries not to smile. “It has a nice ring to it. Although it would be nice if I never had a reason to use it again.”

“I’ll try my hardest,” Blaine promises.

“Good,” he says. “I’d like to see you walk across that graduation stage and if you melt or flood any more rooms in this school, I’m not sure how likely that is.”

:

Blaine _does_ get to walk across the stage, though, and after he waves to Puck and the Skanks, he catches Kurt’s eye and they share a smile as Principal Figgins hands Blaine his diploma.

The sit on the dingy couch under the bleachers after the ceremony ends, after his parents have taken dozens of pictures. Kurt lies with his head in Blaine’s lap, eyes closed, while Blaine stares down at him.

“Puck’s graduation party is tonight,” he says as he plays with Kurt’s hair.

He hums in response.

“We could go if you want,” Blaine suggests. He sort of expects Kurt to say no because even if Kurt doesn’t _judge_ Blaine’s friends exactly, he doesn’t have a lot of common with them, either.

“Okay,” Kurt says, eyes still closed.

Blaine blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats. “Although I’m assuming his parents are out of town and that he’s raided their liquor cabinet so I can only imagine what type of people will be there.”

He shrugs. “You know I’ll watch out for you.”

Kurt finally opens his eyes to meet Blaine’s gaze. He smiles, almost shy, and says, “Promise?”

“I promise,” he says, face turning serious. “No one will ever _ever_ hurt you, Kurt, not in my lifetime.”

: : :

_ **S** tar-crossed and Starry-Eyed: _

Blaine meets Kurt when they’re eight years old at some political summit that he’s too young to understand yet. He doesn’t sit with Blaine or the other royalty but instead always by himself off to the side. It’s Blaine’s first year at one of these things and a bunch of the other kids already know each other but he doesn’t let that stop him. He’s always been good at making friends.

He sees that most of the other kids ignore Kurt and tell Blaine that he’s always been a bit of a snob but the more Blaine watches him, the less he believes all that. Tina, the quiet daughter of the Chinese Emperor, tells Blaine that Kurt’s mother, the Queen of England, just died and he’s barely spoken to anyone at all since it happened. They both try to include him but Kurt never pays them any attention.

:

When Blaine is eleven, they see each other again at some extravagant party the Italians throw. His mother warns him to stay away from Kurt and says something about never being able to trust the British. He ignores her, though, and tries his hardest to get Kurt to warm up to him. Spain and Great Britain are seated as far from each other as possible due to the building animosity between their countries so it’s not an easy feat. He starts some small talk when they meet at a dessert table and Kurt smiles at him twice from across the room which Blaine considers a step in the right direction.

:

They’re sent to the same boarding school in France when Blaine is fourteen. Kurt always tries to avoid eye contact because their countries are almost in all-out war but still, Blaine is undeterred.

“Our countries are fighting,” Blaine says quietly to Kurt as he waits for him in the hallway one afternoon. “It doesn’t mean _we_ have to be.”

“It’s complicated,” Kurt replies. “You know we can’t be friends.”

And he does know that. He just doesn’t care.

Kurt hurries away before Blaine can argue.

:

By the time Blaine is fifteen, they’re almost inseparable but only in private. Spain and England officially _are_ at war and their princes most certainly can’t be amicable.

They leave each other notes in hidden spots, swap stories about their countries and their families that might almost be considered borderline treason, and spend all of their free time holing up in libraries or abandoned classrooms behind locked doors. He’s a teenager so he’s obviously old enough to understand the reasons behind their war but he _can’t_ understand why his best friend can’t be his best friend in spite of it.

:

When he’s sixteen, he realizes that they’re not best friends at all. He kisses Kurt suddenly in one of the secluded gardens on the school’s grounds.

Kurt kisses back.

When they get back to school after the holiday break, Kurt tearfully explains that they can’t see each other anymore. His father found some of the letters Blaine wrote to him over vacation and basically freaked the hell out, even thought about making him transfer schools.

Blaine is heartbroken.

It lasts two weeks before Kurt is bursting into Blaine’s single dorm room, words coming out in incomplete sentences about how he just doesn’t _care_ , he’ll just have to be better at hiding it.

:

Blaine returns to school for his final year alone. He’s seventeen and miserable and his heart aches so much that he swears he can physically feel the pain.

Kurt’s being tutored at the palace privately, far far away from Blaine. He continues to write him letters, never knowing if Kurt even gets them. His parents intercept them one day and he’s barred from leaving the palace for two months.

:

The war ends when Blaine is nineteen but relations between the royal families are frosty at best. It’s a tenuous peace and tensions still run high.

They see each other at a European peacekeeping summit and Kurt refuses to make eye contact until Blaine grabs him by the wrist and tugs him into an empty room.

“Tell me you’re not in love with me,” he says simply.

Kurt stares at him sadly. “Your father called mine a ‘war monger who isn’t fit for rule’.”

“And yours called mine the worst financial monarch in history,” he counters. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

“He told the rest of Europe that we should be annexed, Blaine. He almost _demanded_ it,” Kurt continues.

“Your father criticized our military _and_ our economic system and practically offered to fund anyone who tried to conquer us,” Blaine replies. “But that’s still not what I asked you.”

“Blaine,” he says quietly, looking away. “Don’t do this.”

Blaine gently tugs Kurt’s chin back to force eye contact. “Tell me you don’t love me back and I promise you that I’ll walk away.”

He swallows. “They’re trying to arrange my marriage, Blaine. Please _please_ don’t do this.”

His stomach drops. “What? To who?” he asks. “But Kurt, that’s _still_ not what I want to hear from you.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt answers, eyes wet. “Whoever they deem the best for my country’s political gain.”

Blaine tries to ignore it, tries to push his desperation aside. “Kurt,” he pleads.

“No,” Kurt snaps. “No, I won’t tell you that; is that what you want to hear? Of course I’m in love with you.”

Blaine stares at him, stunned for a minute, then grabs Kurt’s face and pulls him in for a kiss, the first one they’ve shared in almost three years.

Kurt break apart after only a few moments and rests his forehead against Blaine’s. “What are we going to do?” he says, voice sad and resigned.

Blaine spends his journey home wondering the same thing.

:

Over the next two months, Blaine does exactly what he’s spent his entire existence preparing for: being a leader, convincing people with his words and his ideas, motivating people to see things the way he does, showing people they can put their faith in him to make the best decisions for the good of his country.

It just so happens that those _people_ are his parents.

Greece, their economy is even worse than his own country’s, they’d be useless. If his parents want to see their country rise to the great power it once had and could definitely have again, they need their son to marry someone much more politically advantageous than the Greek princess.

Germany, no way, they’re always pissing off France and the last thing Spain needs is more political unrest.

And France is a no go; they’re too busy pissing of Germany.

Portugal, their kid is like six years old so she’s not an option.

Ireland’s prince is getting married to Austria’s princess so they’re both out.

Italy is in the middle of some internal civil crisis, Switzerland would offer no advantage whatsoever, Poland is too far away geographically to be practical, and Belgium is just too tiny to matter.

“That,” Blaine says with a raised eyebrow, “leaves one very important country left.”

“No,” the King says immediately.

“They’ve got an effective military, a strong economy and a stable empire. They’re exactly what we need and you know it.”

“No,” he says again. And it’s the end of the conversation.

Much like most things in his life, Blaine is undeterred.

:

Blaine is twenty-two when his secret affair starts with the Prince of England. Secret in the sense that everyone everywhere in the world _ever_ knows about it.

It’s frowned upon and no one supports it save for one or two of their friends.

And _then_. Tourism picks up. Great Britain inadvertently bails Spain out of a military skirmish with Turkey. Spain accidentally helps out with the King of England’s image problem in Portugal.

Things start turning around.

:

The Prince of Spain is twenty-four when he finally gets engaged. It’s pretty much the social event of the century. It’s a big deal.

Kurt fires four wedding planners. Blaine fires the fifth.

“You fired him?” Kurt asks, confused. He only looks mildly annoyed. “I liked that one.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I didn’t like the way he was always staring at you. And _touching_.”

He returns the eye roll. “He was only taking measurements.”

“Kurt, there’s only so many times someone needs to measure your inseam.”

Kurt ducks his head and laughs. “Whatever you say.”

:

In front of the entire world and with the political stability of two countries riding on it, another lifetime begins.

: : :

_ **T** equila Makes My Clothes Fall Off: _

Blaine Anderson has heard horror stories about one night stands but thankfully has never ever had one of his own. He’s never woken up next to someone whose name he didn’t know and thought, _oh god, what the crap did I do last night?_

Until now.

To Blaine’s credit, this guy is way hot. And not in a beer goggles kind of way because Blaine feels like death which means that the alcohol has finished doing all the good things it does (like obviously picking up a hot guy and taking him home) and just moved on to all the awful things that it does (like leaving a residual pounding headache, a dry mouth that still tastes like vodka, and a random hungover guy in his bed that Blaine has never met before).

They stare at each other, the guy grabbing a fist full of sheets and wrapping himself up modestly.

Blaine raises an eyebrow. “We’re naked in my bed. I’m pretty sure I would have seen you without clothes on at one point in the night so your attempt at modesty is probably a little unnecessary.”

The guy doesn’t relinquish his grip on Blaine’s sheets, though, and it’s getting more awkward by the second.

“Do you want me to make you waffles, or …?”

“Waffles?” the guy asks, eyes wide. “No, I don’t want _waffles_. I want to get my clothes and get out of here before you lock me in some weird secret sex dungeon.”

Blaine blinks. “I don’t have a sex dungeon. Secret or otherwise.”

He clenches his jaw. “Will you just … turn around or leave or — I want to put my clothes back on.”

“You want me to leave?” Blaine ask suspiciously. “Why, what are you going to steal?”

“Nothing,” he says, exasperated. “Just turn around.”

“Doesn’t that seem weird since—”

“Fine, waffles,” he grits out. “I’ll take waffles.”

Blaine still looks a little suspicious. “Okay,” he says slowly. But he leaves the bedroom and spends the next few minutes actually making waffles for the hot guy in his bed who, to be realistic, is probably stealing things from his room at this very moment.

Before he can even finish stirring the batter, he hears the front door open and close. He rushes back to his room to see that the hot guy is now missing but thankfully, none of his stuff.

Blaine shrugs, eats a waffle, spends the rest of the weekend nursing a pretty hardcore hangover, and doesn’t stress about his first one-night stand. His only one-night stand, hopefully. Nothing weird happened, none of his stuff got stolen, and bonus, the guy was actually super hot even without the beer goggles. Chances are, he’ll never see that guy again, which is totally fine by him.

That should be the end of the story. But it’s the beginning.

:

It starts when he finds a bright blue scarf under the bed, one that certainly doesn’t belong to him. He doesn’t even _own_ a scarf.

“ _That color looks fantastic on you,” Blaine said to the hot guy sitting next to him._

_He slowly turned on his stool and gave Blaine an unimpressed look. “Is that a pickup line?”_

“ _What?” Blaine asked. “No.” And then he thought for a moment as he processed how hot this guy was. “I mean, it could be if you wanted?”_

_The guy shook his head. “You seem charming, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve had an awful day in an awful week in a really awful month. Flirting with a handsome stranger is not something in my schedule tonight.”_

_Blaine sat straighter and couldn’t help but smile. “You just called me handsome and charming and you expect me not to flirt with you?”_

_The guy straightened his bright blue scarf and Blaine was practically mesmerized by his hands as they pulled it around and tugged it tighter._

“ _Seriously,” Blaine said with wide eyes. “That looks so good on you.”_

Blaine blinks in his bedroom as the random memory washes over him. He didn’t remember that he was the one that initiated it. Blaine _never_ flirts with random strangers in a bar so the fact that he started that conversation — it’s weird.

:

A few days later, he’s performing with the rest of the group in some theater hall near Boston. They find a coffee shop right around the corner from the hotel and as Blaine waits in line, the guy standing next to him pulls out his phone and it almost falls out of his hand. And staring right back at Blaine from the phone screen — it’s him. It’s his one-night stand.

“Who is that?” Blaine asks as he turns to face the guy, wide-eyed, “How do you know him?”

The tall guy gives him a dubious look. “Uh. What?”

“That guy,” Blaine says, pointing to the phone.

“My brother?” he asks, looking a little weirded out.

“ _He’s a good brother,” Kurt told him. “Although sometimes he makes it hard for me to remember that. When he accidentally deletes one of my reviews, for example.”_

_Blaine smiled. “You two sound close.”_

_He smiled back. “I guess,” he said fondly. “We try to make it back home as often as we can to see our parents. We’re a close family.”_

“Your brother,” Blaine echoes. When the guy still looks a little wary, Blaine says, “I met him last weekend. Um, at a bar.”

“You met him at a bar,” the guy repeats, skeptical.

“We sort of … you know,” Blaine explains. Although it’s not much of an explanation.

His eyebrows raise. “What, had a one-night stand or something?”

Blaine looks a little embarrassed. “I guess. It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

The guy laughs. “Sorry, man, but you’ve got the wrong guy. Kurt isn’t a one-night-stand kind of guy.”

Kurt, Blaine thinks.

His name is _Kurt._

:

They get back to New York on Thursday and on Friday, Blaine’s almost late for work. He’s been distracted for a few days now and it’s… unexpected. And way out-of-character.

He sits down at his piano and tries to focus.

“ _You’re a musician,” Kurt said with an eye roll. “Ah, so you’re one of those.”_

“ _No, seriously, I’m an actual musician,” Blaine laughed. “Like in an actual performing group.”_

“ _So what you mean is that you’re in a band,” Kurt clarified. “Why is it that every guy that plays a guitar at a few open-mic nights thinks he’s an actual musician in an actual band?”_

“ _Because I am,” he answered, still laughing. “And I play the piano, not the guitar.”_

_Kurt looked intrigued. “Well that sounds a little more legitimate.”_

_Blaine shifted a little closer. “You should come see me sometime,” he said, surprised at how serious he sounded._

“ _Maybe I will …?” he trailed off, obviously expecting something._

“ _Blaine,” he filled in. “Nice to meet you.”_

“ _Very nice,” Kurt said with a flirty smile._

Blaine messes up a few notes, even more distracted then he was before.

:

Sam’s telling a lame joke during a break when Blaine accidentally tunes him out.

“ _You’re funny,” Blaine said, laughing. He ordered them both another drink._

“ _I’m not trying to be,” Kurt said back, eyebrow arched. “My friend actually said that. That’s a real story.”_

“ _I know,” Blaine replied. “But all of your stories are good. You’re interesting. Your life is interesting.”_

_Kurt shook his head, amused. “It’s really not.”_

“ _And you’re smart,” Blaine continued. “I don’t have any good stories to tell you. My life is boring.”_

_Kurt gave him a flirty smile. “You don’t have to be exciting. You make up for it by being so adorable.”_

_Blaine smiled back. “That’s the third thing you’ve said about my looks,” he teased. “I’m beginning to think that’s the only reason you like me.”_

_Kurt’s smile softened. “You seem like one of the last true great romantics, how’s that? You’re sweet and you’re free with your smiles. And you seem politely inadvertently charming.” He paused. “I almost wish I had met you sober when I wasn’t trying to drown my sorrows of a cheating boyfriend with what — at this point — is probably an entire bottle of tequila.”_

_Blaine swallowed thickly at the mood shift and placed his hand gently on top of Kurt’s. “Do you want to get out of here?”_

_They were silent for a moment. “I’d love to,” Kurt said quietly._

“He was really nice,” Blaine says aloud. “And every word he said was so — I don’t know — he was just really kind of fascinating.”

Sam looks up from his sandwich. “Uh. What?”

“The guy,” Blaine answeres. “Kurt.”

He looks confused. “The dude from the bar?”

“Yes,” he says with a nod. “I can’t seem to stop… thinking about him. I can’t figure out why.”

“Right,” Sam says slowly.

“Is that weird?”

Sam gives him a concerned look. “Zoning out mid-conversation to daydream about some guy you don’t know? Yeah, that’s a little weird.”

Blaine nods again and tries to stop daydreaming.

:

They meet up with Santana, one of Sam’s friends from high school, at an Italian place after work. She eyes Blaine’s wardrobe and gives him a condescending look. “What the hell are you wearing?”

He rolls his eyes, totally used to her snide comments at this point. He straightens his bowtie and tugs at his cardigan. “Why do you start every conversation like that?”

She pauses. “Wait, ignore that. I’m trying to do this thing with like, being nice. And complimenting people.” She takes a deep breath. “Blaine, I like your incredibly gay but totally normal colored bowtie and the creepy color coordinated checkered shirt. For once, you’re not dripping with neon mismatched clothes that make you look like you’re something in a coloring book that a little blind kid drew with a stack of Crayolas.”

He blinks. “That’s … a compliment?”

“ _You’re not shy with the compliments,” Kurt told him once they were outside walking towards Blaine’s apartment._

_Blaine reached over to pull Kurt’s hand in his own. It was probably a little personal but it felt right. “You make it easy to compliment. You’re pretty amazing.”_

_Kurt ducked his head and smiled to himself. “You’re not so bad yourself. You’re sweet and don’t get me started on that tie.”_

_Blaine was immediately self-conscious. “You don’t like it?”_

“ _I like it a lot, actually,” he said, glancing over to meet Blaine’s eyes. “It really suits the whole charming gentleman vibe you’re aiming for.”_

“ _I’m not intentionally aiming for that vibe,” he said, frowning. “But if that’s how you see me then I won’t argue. Even if everyone else in my life would.”_

“ _Well, everyone else is wrong. And I’m a fashion writer for a pretty upscale magazine so my opinion matters more.”_

_Blaine raised eyebrows. “Wow, a writer, I’m impressed.” He tugged Kurt a little closer. “You keep getting more interesting.”_

_Kurt gave him a teasing smile. “And that’s only the start of it.”_

Blaine blinks back to reality to see a weirded-out Sam and an annoyed Santana staring back at him.

“Dude, you _really_ have to stop doing that. It’s creepy.”

“I can’t help it,” Blaine says, miserable. I can’t get this guy out of my head.”

“Oh, shit,” Santana sighs, annoyed. “I don’t know what’s going on but I can already tell this is going to make you unbearable.”

:

By the next week, Sam’s pretty much exhausted all patience that he had.

“So okay, fine, we need to deal with this,” Sam sighs. “You say this guy is hot, smart, and funny — and apparently really liked you. You keep getting moony over him and zoning out in random places which I still think is totally strange, by the way, and you should get that checked out.”

“Sam—” Blaine starts, rolling his eyes.

“So seriously, how is this guy any different from the guy you’ve been describing to me for years, the perfect dude that I told you probably doesn’t exist?”

Blaine’s at a loss for words because he can’t think of how to answer it, actually.

“Exactly, he’s _not,_ man. So maybe you need to step up your game and try to find him somehow instead of just sitting here acting like a nutcase.”

“I—” he starts. “But how am I supposed to to find him? I don’t exactly have his number, Sam. I don’t even know his last name.”

“ _Can I get your number at least?” Blaine asked._

 _Kurt gave him a considering look. “That’s not how this is supposed to work. The idea of this is that you don’t_ _have to call me in the morning.”_

“ _But what if I want to?” Blaine asked quietly, squeezing Kurt’s hand._

_They stopped on the sidewalk and Kurt turned to face him. “Tell you what,” he says. “If you remember this in the morning, you can have my number.”_

_Blaine smiled brightly and gave Kurt a hopeful look. “Really?”_

_He watched Blaine carefully. “Sure. If we actually remember this — if you remember_ me _— then ask me again tomorrow.”_

“ _Like I could ever forget this night,” Blaine said softly, his eyes locked intently on Kurt’s. “I promise I’ll remember.”_

Blaine snaps back to reality. “God, I was supposed to remember him, Sam. I even _promised_.”

Sam shrugs. “You’re remembering now.”

“Not enough,” Blaine says, suddenly even more miserable than he was before.

:

Sam calls him on Saturday morning. “Please tell me you’re not sitting in your living room moping right now.”

Blaine sighs. “I’m not sitting in my living room,” he says from his living room, moping.

“But you _are_ moping.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Blaine insists. “I’m just trying to remember.”

Sam groans. “Dude, you have to move past this. You only remember stuff when you’re not trying, right?”

He thinks for a moment. “I … guess,” he says, unsure.

“Okay then, we’re hanging out today and you’re not going to stress about this guy.”

Blaine lies back on his couch and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t know, Sam. It’s eight in the morning and I’m not really motivated to do anything.”

“I’m an awesome best friend,” Sam says, “because I’m like two minutes from your apartment and I totally bought you coffee, that expensive crap from the place around the corner.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and he jumps up.

“ _I’ll even make you waffles in the morning,” Blaine said breathlessly as they finally made their way inside the apartment._

_Kurt pressed him up against the wall and leaned in for another kiss. “I’m not really a big breakfast person,” he said with a smile. “More like coffee and a piece of toast.”_

_Blaine switched their position until Kurt’s back was pushed against the wall. “You should give mine a chance. You don’t know what you’re missing.”_

_His breathing turned shallow. “Fine, we’ll see.”_

“ _And coffee,” Blaine added, leaning even more into Kurt’s personal space. “I make the best cup of coffee.”_

_Kurt pushed him away slightly so that he could give him an incredulous stare. “No. You wouldn’t catch me dead drinking from some cheap store-bought coffee maker,” he said, eyebrow raised._

_Blaine rolled his eyes._

“ _I drink my coffee from Pennylane over on 45_ _th_ _and absolutely nowhere else. And it took me years to even trust those baristas.”_

“ _Fine, okay,” Blaine laughed before pressing up close again. “Why are we still talking?”_

“ _No idea,” Kurt said with a breathy laugh, curling his hand around Blaine’s neck and pulling him closer._

“Oh my god, Sam,” he says, heart beating rapidly. “I know where to go.”

:

“There’s a guy,” Blaine explains to a couple of the baristas at Pennylane. “He’s a little taller than me, brown hair, dresses like — I don’t know — like a movie star or something?”

The blonde girl gives him a blank stare and the brunette gives him a thoughtful look.

“He comes in all the time,” Blaine continues. “Soft voice, slender, and like, really really hot. Anything? Isn’t that anything to go off of?”

“You mean Kurt?” asks the brunette.

“Yes,” Blaine sighs, relieved. “ _Kurt_. Exactly. When does he come in?”

She gives him an apologetic smile. “Only on weekdays,” she answers. “Usually around seven.”

It’s kind of frustrating to be this close to finally putting all of the puzzle pieces together then being told he has to wait another day and a half. But he’s also already thrumming with nerves.

And on Monday morning, he’s sitting impatiently at one of the tables by the door, leg bouncing and fingers drumming the table.

Kurt walks in at six fifty-five and Blaine jumps up. “Hey,” he says quickly. “Hi.”

Kurt startles at the random person hopping out in front of him but as soon as he meets Blaine’s eyes, he gives him a small smile. “You found me,” he says quietly.

“I promised to remember you,” Blaine says, eyes searching Kurt’s. “I’m sorry it took me a little while.”

“But you found me,” Kurt repeats.

“Only after I almost lost you,” he says weakly. “What if I couldn’t remember? What if I had to spend my whole lifetime searching for you?”

Kurt takes a step closer and reaches out to touch Blaine’s wrist. He whispers, “Then I probably would have spent my whole lifetime waiting for you to find me.”

: : :

**U** \+ Me = Us:

Being in a boy band is sometimes exactly like Blaine thought it would be and sometimes not what he expected at all. He figured there would be some embarrassing matching costumes, for example, and long hours of dance rehearsals. He thought it would be strict schedules and _no you can’t eat that_ and _yes you have to show up to the MTV Choice Awards._

He did not, however, ever expect to hear _Sorry, Blaine, but you’re contractually obligated to not date your fellow band mate._ The thing is, he signed that contract two days after the band was officially assembled, when he was fifteen and Kurt Hummel was only thirteen. How the heck were they supposed to know they’d fall madly in love someday?

:

They get assembled like most boybands do, bit by bit, until each role is filled. Their manager starts with Blaine, tells him that he’s The Heartthrob, the ones the girls will shriek about, the one who will have pictures of himself plastered on every high school locker. A few days later, they recruit Cooper, The Older Brother Figure which seems cool in theory, right, having a positive influence in their band, someone to look up to. But in reality, it’s a travesty since he’s Blaine’s _actual_ older brother. And also a major toolbag.

A week after that, they’re looking for The Shy One at a library in Phoenix but instead they find Puck setting fire to stuff in the parking lot and fill their previously empty Bad Boy position. The next day, they find their Shy One outside of a dance studio in Seattle.

Which leaves one position open: The Cute One. They spend weeks looking for this kid and everywhere they go, no luck. No one that jumps out at them. No one with the trifecta of success, no one that can sing, dance, and look good while doing it. It’s a few days before Christmas in L.A. when they almost give up, when Blaine starts to feel homesick and convinced that his dream will never ever come true.

And that’s where they find Kurt Hummel, the kid playing Tiny Tim at the local children’s theater. And he’s _perfect_. With his voice, they’ll have such a kickass harmony and he looks so adorable that no one is immune. Everyone — even _Puck_ sometimes, just wants to give him a hug or ruffle his hair or be near him _all the time_ just to make sure he doesn’t get homesick or lonely.

Okay, the last one might just be Blaine. He feels protective of Kurt not even five minutes after they meet him, like he thinks that two years age difference actually means something. He wants to be his confidant, his friend, his protector. He wants to be there when he thinks Kurt is lonely and just needs to be around someone — _anyone —_ and he wants to be there when Kurt’s high on adrenaline after a sold-out show.

When Blaine signs the contract, he almost laughs about the dating clause. Like he would ever even _want_ to date Mike or Puck. And Kurt, god he’s like everyone’s little brother. He’s cute and innocent and pure and sometimes so _so_ naive. So Blaine signs it and never thinks twice.

And then, of course, Kurt gets older, as people tend to do.

When Kurt turns fifteen and goes through a mini growth spurt, Blaine doesn’t really notice. He’s still _Kurt_ , Blaine’s favorite friend, the smart and funny little kid that sings like a pro.

When Kurt turns sixteen, Blaine notices it a bit more but mostly in a _huh, Kurt’s my same height now_ and not really in a _okay, my pants get a little tighter when he’s around._

When Kurt turns seventeen, Blaine notices it a hundred percent in the _okay my pants get tighter when he’s around_ kind of way _._ He half-halfheartedly attempts to avoid Kurt which is virtually impossible because when they’re not on stage together, they’re sharing a dressing room or sitting a few feet away on a tour bus.

When Kurt turns eighteen, Blaine figures out that he’s half in love with him.

Kurt corners him after dance rehearsal.

“Why are you being like this?” he asks sadly. “You used to be my best friend and now you won’t talk to me.”

Blaine looks down at his hands, ashamed of his behavior for the past two weeks. “I know I’ve been distant and I’m sorry,” he starts. But he doesn’t know how to finish so he doesn’t say anything else.

Kurt’s quiet for a moment. “This is about me, isn’t it?” he whispers. “And how I feel about you.”

Blaine’s eyes dart up to meet his gaze. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt tells him, looking away. “I’m trying not to be in love with you. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable.”

His jaw drops. “Wait. You’re in love with me?”

Kurt gives him a miserable look. “I’m sorry. We can be friends, I promise. I won’t ruin anything.”

“We can’t,” Blaine rushes to say. “I can’t be your friend anymore.”

Kurt looks _devastated_ and Blaine reaches for Kurt’s chin to tip it up, to force Kurt to look at him. “I’m so in love with you that I can’t see straight.”

Kurt blinks rapidly, eyes still a little wet. “What? You’re serious?”

And instead of answering, Blaine pushes up unto Kurt’s personal space and gives him a kiss, one that he hopes is the first of many.

:

They’ve only been dating for about eight months when their manager calls them into his office.

“This can’t happen,” he says, gesturing between the two of them.

“We’re discreet,” Blaine replies, defensive. “No one even suspects anything.”

“Plus,” Kurt argues, “everyone knows we’re gay. They’re not going to care.”

“It’s not about that,” their manager says, equal parts distracted and annoyed. “These kids come to your concerts, buy your CDs, and camp out for tickets because they dream about these songs being about _them._ You two don’t help me sell tickets if you’re off the market and making heart eyes at each other.”

They’re excused from his office and both promptly ignore him.

:

A month later, they’re called in again. Kurt’s irritated and Blaine’s disinterested. What could they possibly do at this point? They’re in love and Columbia Records can’t do a thing about it.

But within minutes, Kurt’s gone from irritated to stunned speechless and Blaine’s shifted from disinterested to incredibly, disturbingly freaked out.

Apparently, there’s an epic rivalry between their fans and the kids in love with Vocal Adrenaline, their rival boyband. No one in the actual bands care, mind you, but their batshit teenaged fans have started like, setting fire to cars and worse.

“So?” Blaine cautiously starts. “What are we supposed to do about that?”

“You,” he says, pointing a finger at Kurt. “Adam Crawford is your new best friend.”

Kurt blinks at him, silent.

“Kurt already _has_ a best friend,” Blaine points out. “And I’m sitting right here.”

Their manager ignores him. “And a few weeks after that, he’ll be your new boyfriend.”

Blaine gapes at him. “He already has one of those, too.” He pauses. “Also sitting right here.”

It goes downhill from there. Apparently a fake relationship is supposed to ease tensions between their fans but all Blaine can think is that his boyfriend will be fake dating someone else, maybe even fake _kissing_ someone else. Blaine can’t be seen with Kurt in public but Adam Crawford actually gets to be fake in love with him.

Show business is nothing like he thought.

:

Their manager lets them talk alone in his office, the first decent thing he’s done ever.

“This doesn’t bother you at all?” Blaine asks, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice but failing.

“Of course it bothers me,” Kurt answers, voice sad but insulted. “But we signed those contracts, Blaine. They own us.”

Blaine nods. “I know.”

“Plus,” Kurt adds, moving his chair closer to Blaine’s and reaching for his hand. “It’s only for a few months, right?”

“Six,” Blaine says pointedly. “ _Six_ months.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything and Blaine momentarily feels awful because he knows that this is harder for Kurt than it is for him but he sort of can’t focus on that right now.

“Well then let’s get it over with,” Kurt says with a sad smile.

:

They don’t get to see each other a lot over the next several months. Sure, they’re on tour and they spend time in the tour bus together but Mike and Puck and Cooper are only a few feet away. When they get off stage, they’re usually exhausted and only manage an hour or so together before they’re half asleep on their feet. And then on their off days —

Kurt is with Adam.

Blaine can’t remember the last time he was this miserable.

“Did you have fun?” he asks every time Kurt comes back to him.

“No,” Kurt answers every time as he curls into Blaine’s side, wherever they may be: backstage, a dressing room, Blaine’s hotel room, the tour bus. “We mostly just talked about you.”

And Blaine believes him, he really does. He doesn’t believe for a second that Kurt and Adam might fall for each other, doesn’t even consider the possibility of Kurt cheating on him, not even fake cheating for the cameras.

None of that rational thought stops his irrational fears, though. Every time he opens one of those gossipy celebrity magazines, he’s terrified he’ll come face to face with his boyfriend kissing some other guy, even if it’s all for show. As he flips through one in Kurt’s dressing room a few hours before a show, he can feel Kurt’s eyes on him.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he asks Blaine carefully.

Instead of pretending he’s fine and that none of this bothers him and that he’s still totally on board, he swallows and gives Kurt a desperate look. “I don’t want to open a magazine and see you kissing someone,” Blaine says, voice cracking. “I don’t care if it’s fake. I never ever want to see that.”

Kurt blinks and puts his own magazine down to sit next to Blaine on the couch. “It was a caveat, just so you know. No kissing. I told them I don’t care what the contract says I have to do. It wasn’t an option on the table.”

Blaine shifts to face him and slowly breaks out into a smile. “Really?”

“Really,” Kurt says quietly. “You don’t ever have to worry about that. I promise you.”

Blaine nods and tries to let it go. He might not have to see them kissing but he still has to see tabloid pictures of them at restaurants, pictures of them sitting close and leaning in while sharing coffee. Worse, he has to sit a few seats away during awards shows as he watches them lean into each other’s personal space and share smiles that are supposed to look private but are a hundred percent just for the cameras.

Blaine stares at his boyfriend longingly and reminds himself that there’s only a couple of months left.

:

Two weeks before their one year anniversary, Blaine joins him in the back of the tour bus on their way from Boston to somewhere in Connecticut. “So I’m assuming we don’t get to be together for our anniversary?” he asks, resigned.

“No, we do,” Kurt answers with a weak smile. “But I had to fight for it. There were … compromises.”

He eyes Kurt warily. “What kind of compromises?”

He sighs and doesn’t say anything.

“Kurt?” he prompts. And then his heart drops. “Something in public? You have to show some PDA?”

Kurt turns to him and looks half annoyed and half insulted. “I told you that wasn’t on the table.”

Blaine nods. “Right, I know. I just—”

“We have to sing together,” Kurt interrupts. “And leak a fake duet.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up. “You two are releasing an _album_?” he asks, voice high and irrational.

“I believe my exact words were ‘leak a fake duet’,” he replies. “We’re not releasing anything or recording anything.”

Blaine stares at his hands, not sure what to say. He _hates_ this.

“The good news, though—”

“There’s good news?” Blaine asks, incredulously. “How can anything be considered good news?”

He sighs and tries to look patient. “The good news,” Kurt repeats, “is that this is the end. This is supposed to be our grand finale.”

Blaine’s heart rate picks up. “Seriously? It’s almost over?”

“It’s almost over,” Kurt repeats. “We have to leak this duet and before we officially release the single, we break up. That way nothing actually has to be recorded or released.”

He can immediately feel the tension drain away. Kurt’s quiet for awhile, though, and Blaine knows that that means something. “But…” Blaine starts. “I’m missing something. What aren’t you saying?”

Kurt hesitates. “We can’t see each other right away, Blaine. It’ll look like I broke up with him for you or worse, that I was cheating on him. We’ll undo all the good that we’ve been trying to accomplish.”

Blaine shakes his head to himself and asks, “How long?” He can’t even look at Kurt.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m still working on it.”

“You’re working on it?” Blaine asks, skeptical. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m still negotiating, Blaine,” he says, frustrated. “I wish you’d get that this isn’t easy for me, either.”

“I do,” Blaine argues. He can feel himself getting upset. “But can you try and see this from my point of view? I have to _see_ you with him. I have to watch you do all the things that _we_ should be doing. I have to read articles about how great you look together. I have to sit in my hotel room thinking about you, waiting for you to come back to me.”

Kurt looks out the window. “I know,” he says sadly. “And I’m not trying to downplay that. But this isn’t fun for me, you know.”

Blaine doesn’t know how to respond so they sit in silence for rest of the drive.

:

A few weeks later, both of their agents release statements about the breakup, about how they wish each other the best and that it was a friendly breakup, how they still plan on being friends. They still have to make an occasional joint appearance to keep up the facade but it’s nothing like it used to be.

Blaine gets to sit next to him at the VMAs, gets to mention him again in interviews. It’s a slow progression but they’re finally on their way back to being _them_. Around three months after the staged breakup, Blaine starts getting a bit antsy. He wants to date Kurt, wants to be with him in public, wants to stop stressing about if they’re sitting too close or smiling too much or looking at each other for a just a little too long. But he doesn’t say anything, never tries to push the issue. He figures Kurt’s got it under control. If they’re not public yet then there’s a reason. He trusts Kurt to do what he has to do.

They get pretty good at sneaking around. They find some hole-in-the-wall restaurant one night after a show in Cleveland. Blaine’s pretty sure the hostess recognizes them because she smiles brightly, doesn’t make eye contact, and seats them in a dimly lit table in the back corner.

It’s a relaxing dinner and Blaine can barely remember what he ordered because it’s just… _nice._ The two of them. Out in public. Together. A few minutes after the appetizers arrive, the mood suddenly shifts and Kurt’s immediately tense.

“Kiss me,” he says.

Blaine eyes him because hello, they were just talking about Taylor Lautner’s new haircut and it’s a totally random thing for him to say.

“Like, tonight?” he asks. “Because I can so ask for our check right now if this is going where I think it’s going.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “No, now,” he says. “Kiss me.”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly. It’s not that he’s opposed to kissing his famous boyfriend in public, it’s just that he never _has_. He wasn’t aware that cheap Mexican restaurants and melted queso dip is what it took to get Kurt all riled up.

So he leans over their table to meet him halfway but it’s a really awkward angle and Kurt keeps shifting so that they’re half facing the other corner of the restaurant and it’s just … weird. He doesn’t spend too long focused on it being weird, though, because sometimes _Kurt_ is weird. Blaine just runs with it.

:

The next morning, Blaine’s eating breakfast with the rest of the guys in the backstage green room of some morning talk show they’re recording. Kurt slides into the room and gives Blaine a chastised look. Blaine’s immediately concerned.

“Do you remember when you told me you never wanted to open a trashy magazine and see me kissing some guy?” he asks.

Blaine swallows and stares up at Kurt, stomach dropping. “Yes,” he says quietly. He’s already wondering who it could be, when it happened, why Kurt never _told_ him.

Kurt drops a copy of _Star_ on the table and says, “Then don’t look at page seventeen.”

So, obviously, Blaine grabs it and flips directly to page seventeen. He comes face to face with a huge, two-page spread picture of the two of them kissing at the dimly lit Mexican restaurant from the night before. Somehow they’re directly facing the camera and they’re under the lamp at just the right angle to show clearly and explicitly who’s making out in the back of a restaurant.

He looks up at Kurt with a stunned smile. “You staged this. You knew someone was there last night.”

Kurt shrugs. “I thought I saw someone with a camera and decided to go for it and hope for the best.”

Blaine stares at him, speechless and thrilled and a million other feelings battling for control. “They’re going to be mad, Kurt,” he says. “I’m assuming you didn’t get management’s okay for this.”

Kurt shrugs again and takes a seat from across the table. “So? What can they do now? _Nothing,_ Blaine _._ Those pictures are pretty clear-cut and so are the ones right below of us laughing and you feeding me a bite of your chicken fajita.”

And he’s right. There seriously isn’t a way for their manager to spin this.

“This is okay, right?” Kurt asks cautiously. “You’re not upset?”

Blaine huffs out a laugh. “I’ve never been _less_ upset, Kurt,” he answers. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble for this.”

“We have less than a year left on this ridiculous contract. After that, we can do anything we want, Blaine.”

“We can avoid the cameras—” Blaine starts.

“—and hide out in some tiny village someplace where no one knows who we are—”

“—then spend like a whole week in bed —”

“—with no rehearsals,” Kurt interrupts. “No dance practice, no vocal warm-ups—”

“Just _nothing_ ,” Blaine says, leaning across the table, breakfast long forgotten.

Kurt leans in and grabs Blaine’s hands. “We’ll — I don’t know, we’ll run away.”

“And we’ll never look back,” Blaine finishes.

They spend that whole lifetime together and they never look back.

: : :

_**V** ampires Suck: _

Blaine discovered about a half century ago that parties are the best place to meet people. Luckily for him, everyone seems to share that same mindset. They, of course, are trying to meet people to fall in love with or for a quick hookup. Blaine, however, is trying to find an easy meal.

Life as a vampire isn’t always simple. Sure, he’s not stoked to have to actually kill someone and he seriously, truly feels bad about it every single time, but it’s not like he’s got too much of a choice. He’s a vampire. It’s what they do.

So that’s how he finds himself at a Halloween party circa … actually he isn’t sure anymore. Sometime in the mid twenty-first century, maybe. He’s surrounded by college kids dressed in the most revealing costumes possible, guys trying to flaunt their biceps and girls flaunting … well, everything, really. And they’re all basically drunk.

Blaine sighs from where he leans against one of the back walls. He _hates_ when they’re drunk. It makes everything taste like booze and he winds up with a headache the next morning. He glances around to see if there’s anyone left that’s still sober, anyone worth sticking around for.

And then there he is. Mirroring Blaine’s position up against the opposite wall, eyes carefully roaming over the room as he looks for someone. When he finally meets Blaine’s gaze, his face breaks out into a small coy smile and he pushes away from the wall to cross the room.

“Hello there,” he says with that same smile. “You look lonely over here.”

“I was,” Blaine says back, returning the smile. “But not anymore.”

He lets out a breathy laugh and _oh_ , this is so the guy Blaine is leaving with tonight.

“I’m Kurt,” he offers.

“Blaine,” he replies. “And it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Kurt says. His gaze travels down Blaine’s body. “And you are …?”

“Oh, uh,” he starts. “I’m a high school nerd.” He gestures to the pocket protector he stuck in his shirt pocket, the only difference between his Halloween costume and his normal everyday attire of cropped pants, bowtie, and cardigan.

“Ah,” he says with an obvious tone of appreciation. “Well, you certainly pull it off.”

Blaine’s cheeks turn a little pink for some reason which is like the first time that’s happened in a few dozen years. “And you?” he asks, letting his eyes rake over Kurt’s body, over his incredibly form fitting pants, snug button up, and knotted scarf.

Kurt falters for a moment. “Oh, um. A runway model?” It sounds like more of a question than an answer like maybe he didn’t quite think his costume through.

“And _you_ definitely pull it off,” Blaine answers with a flirty smile.

They watch each other for a moment.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Blaine finally suggests a few minutes later.

“I’d love to,” Kurt tells him, voice breathy again.

:

They walk around the city for a while as Blaine tries to think of a place to take him. Someplace hidden and discreet, obviously, but not so out-of-the way that Kurt freaks out and bolts before Blaine even has a chance to do anything.

He loses focus after awhile, though, and finds himself lost in conversation with Kurt, who might possibly be the most fascinating person Blaine has ever met.

“You’ve been to Italy?” he asks, surprised.

“Briefly,” Kurt says with a vague wave of his hand. “I had to get out of France. It was this whole nasty break-up and … I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice to say, Napoleon has a jealous temper.”

Blaine pauses. “Napoleon? Like, _Napoleon_ Napoleon? Bonaparte?”

Kurt freezes. “What? Oh, no. I meant — _no_ , of course not,” he says with an awkward laugh. “That would make me like, three hundred years old. What a silly question, I mean _honestly_.”

Blaine nods and realizes it _is_ a dumb question. Just because Blaine remembers Napoleon Bonaparte doesn’t mean that normal guys that _aren’t vampires_ would. “I’ve heard things about him,” he says. “I hear he _did_ have a jealous temper.”

Blaine never actually met the guy because he bailed on Europe back before that whole thing happened but hello, he was a crazy French war-hungry monarch, word travels fast.

“You have no idea,” Kurt mutters under his breath.

“So where else have you been in Europe?” he asks after a long silence.

“Everywhere,” Kurt sighs. “I’ve — had a lot of time on my hands.”

Blaine nods his head in understanding. “Me, too.” He glances at Kurt out of the corner of his eye. “Alone? Or have you been able to tour the world with someone by your side?”

He shrugs and Blaine’s startled by how sad he looks in that very moment. “By myself. It’s a little lonely being … who I am.”

Blaine nods again. Definitely the worst part about being a vampire — the loneliness. Aside from the people trying to kill him with stakes when they find out exactly what he _is_ , obviously. “I’ve always wanted to go there with someone,” he says, not sure where the words come from. “Venice seems like it would be beautiful to share with someone.”

He’s been there a few times but always alone. It’s depressing. And the people taste all starchy.

“So let’s go,” Kurt suggests with a teasing smile. “We’ll go right now.”

Blaine laughs but it fades quickly when he remembers that this is not how the night was supposed to go. Kurt was supposed to be something quick and easy. For the first time in his _life_ , Blaine has the urge to not bite Kurt but to _turn_ him. Blaine has never _ever_ done that before because taking away someone’s life is one thing but taking away their eternity is something else. When it comes down to it, being a vampire is a curse and nothing more, and there’s no way Blaine could ever find it in himself to inflict that on anyone, not even on some guy he met two hours ago that he’s pretty sure he could fall in love with. Someone that could undo his lifetime of loneliness, someone he could share Venice with.

“I have to go,” Blaine says suddenly. “I can’t do this.”

“Go?” Kurt asks, looking torn. “Do what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between them. “What I was trying to do.”

Kurt sighs, still looking unsure. “I know, me either.”

Blaine pauses and eyes Kurt suspiciously. “What were _you_ trying to do?”

He hesitates and thinks carefully. “Don’t freak out but — I’m a vampire.”

Blaine’s mouth falls open. “You’re not serious.”

“No comments about us ‘sparkling’, okay? It’s not true and probably the most offensive misconception about vampires to come out of this century,” Kurt tells him, eyes narrowed.

“Oh god, tell me about it,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes. “Although the garlic thing has gotten old, too. Like, why would we be afraid of garlic? Where did that even originate?”

Kurt freezes. “Wait. What?”

“Oh,” he says, brain catching up with his mouth. “Right. Hi, I’m Blaine. And I’m over five hundred years old.”

:

They _do_ find someplace hidden and discreet but not to do what he was originally planning to do. No, they use it for something that requires no clothes and a lot of body contact.

“So, Venice?” Kurt asks a few hours later, lying next to Blaine with their clothes somewhere on the floor.

“Venice,” Blaine repeats. “And after that —”

“—the world,” Kurt finishes.

They go everywhere, from tiny villages in Russia (where the people taste like iced coffee, oddly), to the grand sights of France (where they taste a little sour and marginally unpleasant), to the big cities in China (where everyone tastes spicy with a hint of ginger).

They live for an eternity and love for a lifetime.

: : :

_**W** alk the Plank: _

Falling in love with a pirate was not something Blaine Anderson set out to do when he joined the Royal Navy. _Meeting_ a pirate wasn’t even something he was prepared to do.

They’re somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean when they get boarded. The captain sees the small ship in the distance, black pirate flag waving proudly, but it’s not enough time to prepare. The pirate ship is smaller and faster and they’re much more used to catching up with a ship than Blaine’s naval ship is used to evading one. It’s sort of mind-blowing how quickly they’re on the ship and in control but then again, they’re pirates. It’s what they do. It should be no surprise that they’re good at it.

“You have something we want,” says a tall pirate, probably one the leaders.

No one says anything in response.

The pirates wait.

When it’s apparent that no one else will speak up, Blaine clears his throat. “We don’t have many weapons and not much food left. I don’t think we have anything you want at all, really.”

The pirate smiles at something over Blaine’s shoulder. “Oh, you have it alright.”

He turns behind him to see Smythe looking downright terrified. Blaine shakes his head sadly because sure, if anyone would give reason for a bunch of pirates to attack their ship, it would be Sebastian Smythe.

The pirate and a couple of his men escort Sebastian down below deck somewhere while a few of the other pirates take command of the ship. Blaine just stands there helplessly, not sure what to do.

“We’re not here to hurt anybody, you know,” says a pirate to Blaine’s left, one he didn’t even notice there.

Blaine blinks as he meets the pirate’s eyes, surprised at both the soft voice and the smile on his lips. He looks _nothing_ like any pirate he’s seen before. His skin looks soft and his eyes are kind, his hair seems clean and brushed away from his face, all in contrast to the harsh men all around him with darkened scarred skin, hard eyes, and long hair. If he wasn’t a pirate, Blaine would almost be tempted to call him handsome. Incredibly handsome, really.

“We just need to get what we came for and then we’ll let you go, safe and sound.”

Blaine stares at him cautiously. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

He smiles. “You have my word.”

“The word of a pirate?” Blaine asks, eyebrows raised. “I’m not sure how reliable that is.”

The pirate ducks his head, still smiling. “Fair enough.”

He walks away and Blaine stares after him.

:

The next day, Blaine wanders around the boat, wondering what it is that he should be doing now that the ship is overrun with pirates. He doesn’t see the fair-skinned pirate for the entire day. When he goes to the dining hall to eat, though, there he is, sitting at the end of one of the tables with a few empty seats around him. When he spots Blaine, he smiles and gestures to the empty seat across from him. Blaine takes it warily.

“I poured you some wine,” the pirate says, holding out a glass. “There won’t be much left by the end of the week, I’m sure. My friends, they know how to celebrate.”

Blaine takes it wordlessly, wondering how much wine and food the pirates brought onto the ship from their smaller one from the day before. No way did their ship have this much wine on it two days ago.

“Thank you,” he says eventually.

The pirate smiles at him in response and doesn’t say anything else.

They eat quietly until the pirate finishes eating and heads up to the deck. A few moments later, Blaine follows him because seriously, what else is there to do?

Blaine finds him sitting against a rail, staring up at the stars. He sits next to him, uninvited, and stares up at the sky, wondering what the pirate sees. Blaine tries to figure out what direction they’re going based on the stars location in the sky but he gives up after ten minutes.

“North,” the pirate says quietly. “We’re going north.”

Blaine startles as he looks over and wonders how it’s possible he could have heard Blaine’s own thoughts. The pirate gives him a crooked smile and they don’t say anything else.

:

The next day, he’s waiting for Blaine again at the same table. It’s quiet while they eat, not that they would really be able to hear each other over the rest of the room, most of the other pirates drunk or on their way. Most of Blaine’s fellow naval officers are joining in on the fun and on the wine.

They watch the stars again.

“Blaine,” he finally says to the pirate. “That’s my name.”

“Ah,” he says. He doesn’t offer anything else.

“And you?” Blaine asks. “What can I call you?”

The pirate gives him a considering look and thinks it over. “Kurt,” he says finally. “You can call me Kurt.”

“Kurt the pirate,” Blaine says aloud, trying the words out.

“Just Kurt,” he says. “Just call me Kurt.”

Blaine nods and they sit in silence.

:

They talk more and more each night. Blaine never sees him during the day and only vaguely wonders where it is he goes, what he does. Every night, though, they eat and then sit against the railing and watch the stars.

“They look like thousands of tiny jewels,” Kurt says one night. “Bright diamonds just hanging there.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything but turns his head to watch Kurt watching the sky.

“You can have them all,” he whispers to Blaine. “I’ll steal them for you and they’ll all be yours.”

He blinks and his voice catches. “I don’t need thousands of jewels, though.”

Kurt shrugs and gives him another crooked smile. “They’re yours anyway. All of them, every single star.”

Blaine returns the smile with a shy one of his own. “Thank you. No one’s ever stolen the stars for me,” he says with a teasing voice.

Kurt stares back at the sky.

“What is it Sebastian has?” Blaine asks awhile later. “What did he take?”

He considers the question for a moment. “People that we care about. He’s hidden them.”

“Hidden them?” he says, confused.

“He’s abandoned them somewhere. An island. He’s taking us to them.”

Blaine’s stomach sinks a little. “People you care about,” he repeats. “So do _you_ have someone on that island?”

A sad expression crosses his face. “Yes.”

Blaine’s stomach sinks a little more. “And you want him back.”

Kurt nods. “Very much.”

They go back to staring at the sky and suddenly Blaine feels possessive of the stars and hopes that Kurt never promised them to someone else before him.

Kurt’s a pirate, though, Blaine remembers, and that’s just what they do.

:

They land on the island a few days later and several more pirates come aboard, most looking exhausted and dehydrated. Blaine tries not to look too closely because he doesn’t want to see the pirate that Kurt so deeply cares about.

At dinner that night, he’s surprised to see Kurt waiting for him at the same table. He’s surprised even more when he sees Kurt _alone_. But they eat just like they normally do and they sit outside below Blaine’s stars like they normally do. Nothing feels different, which Blaine doesn’t understand.

“Where are we going now?” he asks.

“South,” Kurt teases.

“That’s not what I meant,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes. “I mean _where_.”

“Back to your home,” he answers. “I told you that’s where we would take you again. I even gave you my word.”

 _Home_ , Blaine hears. He doesn’t know if he likes that word anymore.

Nothing changes for the rest of the journey home and it gives Blaine a small satisfaction when he realizes that Kurt spends his entire evenings with Blaine and none of them with whoever Kurt picked up on that island.

:

When they pull up to a makeshift port close enough for the officers to get back to their city but far enough away to not be spotted by a warship, Blaine stares at Kurt with serious, pleading eyes. “Do you ever think about not being a pirate any more? Staying in one place with just one person?”

Kurt watches him back carefully. “My life is on a ship,” he says by way of an answer. “But I could stay in _that_ one place with just one person.” He waits for Blaine to say something but Blaine isn’t sure what.

He heads towards the stairs down to the dock and doesn’t meet Kurt’s eyes when he says, “I hope he can be your one person. I’m glad you found him on that island again.”

He’s halfway down the ramp when he hears Kurt say, “My father? I’m glad, too, but I don’t get what you mean.”

 _His father_ , Blaine realizes belatedly. He’s swarmed by everyone else emptying the ship with him and never gets a chance to look back or say goodbye.

:

Blaine’s presented with a medal a few months later. He accepts it with a forced smile and tries not to think about how empty these things all feel now.

He heads back to his house, ready to fall into bed, when he sees a figure sitting on a kitchen chair, boots propped up on the table. He grabs for his dagger immediately.

“Calm down,” the shadowy figure says. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Kurt?” Blaine says, eyes wide.

He stands up and steps into the light. “Hi, Blaine,” he says with a smile.

“Why — how are you here — _why_ are you here?”

“It’s fairly obvious, I’d think,” Kurt answers. “I’m here for you. To try and stay in one place for one person.”

Blaine gapes at him and takes a step closer. “You would do that?”

Kurt shrugs and looks away.

“Do you think you could even be happy?”

“Sure,” Kurt answers. “Eventually.”

Blaine falters.

“But could _you_ be happy?” Kurt asks quietly. “ _Are_ you happy?”

He thinks about how lonely he’s been, how he misses the camaraderie of the crew, the feel of the sea swaying below, the constant presence of Kurt. That’s what he thinks about, mostly. How lonely he is without Kurt.

“No, I don’t think so,” Blaine answers honestly. “I think I’d like you to take me back to your ship, actually.”

Kurt grins slowly. “Okay, we have to be quick. Grab everything you need.”

Blaine stares at him blankly. “What?”

“Anything you want on that ship,” Kurt explains. “Get everything you need for a lifetime at sea but be quick about it.”

Blaine gives him a soft smile and grabs Kurt’s hand. “I’ve got it,” he says, squeezing tightly. “Right here, everything I want for a lifetime at sea.”

: : :

_**X** oxo: _

Blaine’s not the kind of guy that gets a secret admirer. That stuff just doesn’t happen in real life and if it _did_ , it wouldn’t happen to the theater nerd that works at the campus library.

But then he gets one.

He’s putting away a few books from the cart back on to the shelves at the end of his shift when a small, plain index card falls out of one of the books. He bends down to read it and his eyes widen in shock.

_blaine,_

_long before i knew you_

_long before i met you_

_i was sure i’d find you someday_

_somehow_

_i pictured someone who’d walk and talk_

_and smile as you do_

_and make me feel as you do right now_

_xoxo_

He glances around to see who could have slipped this in the cart while he wasn’t looking but the library is empty save for some couple making out in the back corner. He stares at the card and feels his face flush.

Blaine has a secret admirer, one who’s quoting _musicals_.

His life suddenly just got awesome.

:

He gets to his Intro to Musicals class early the next day and looks around the auditorium to see if he can maybe figure out the mystery. There’s a bunch of girls, a handful of jocks taking it for a few easy credits, the hot guy in the back who never makes eye contact with him, and a couple of freshman only enrolled in the class to pick up girls.

  
So okay, not anyone from class then.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens the entire day or for the rest of the week even. He doesn’t catch anyone staring at him or stealing furtive glances, no one new starts a conversation with him in the cafeteria, just … nothing.

He tries not to feel disappointed.

:

There’s a note slipped under his door a few days later.

_blaine,_

_all my life_

_i’ve longed to discover_

_something as true as this is_

_xoxo_

Blaine looks around the hallway but again, no one is there.

He oversleeps the next morning and misses the first fifteen minutes of his Intro to Musicals class. When he finally gets to the auditorium, he quietly takes a seat in the back so as not to draw attention to himself instead of his normal seat up front.

“Did I miss anything important?” Blaine whispers to the hot guy that never makes eye contact with him.

The hot guy startles, obviously not prepared for someone to be sitting next to him in the very back row. “What? Oh. No.”

Blaine offers him a smile and the hot guy sort of returns it but then he looks back towards their professor for the rest of class.

When it ends and everyone’s trying to clear out, Blaine stops him.

“So, hey — I’m Blaine,” he says quickly, before the guy can make a fast getaway.

He hesitates. “Kurt,” he says in a soft voice.

They stare at each other for a few moments and Blaine’s almost startled by the intensity of it.

“Do you maybe … want to get coffee sometime?” he says, no idea where the words come from.

Kurt gives him a shy smile. “Sure.”

'Sometime' turns out to be that afternoon and they sit in the on-campus coffee shop for so long that Blaine almost misses a class.

“I—” he starts, weirdly flustered. “Can we do this again? I’m late but — let’s do this again?”

“Sure,” Kurt agrees easily. “I’ll see you in class next week.”

Blaine gives him an awkward wave goodbye and thinks about how _next week_ sounds so far away.

:

When he opens one of his notebooks over the weekend, another card falls out.

_yesterday i loved you_

_like never before_

_but please don’t think me strange_

_i’ve undergone a change_

_and today_

_i love you even more_

_xoxo_

His heart rate picks up and for once, he doesn’t bother looking around because he’s alone in his room which means, _god_ , how the hell is this guy pulling this off?

Blaine re-reads the card while he waits in the coffee shop the next day. Kurt’s a few minutes early, though, and Blaine doesn’t have time to slip the card back into his bag before Kurt can notice.

Kurt freezes. “What’s that?” he says, taking a seat across from Blaine.

“Oh, nothing,” he laughs nervously. “It’s just a note.”

Kurt looks down at his own hands. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I — don’t laugh okay? But I think I have a secret admirer.”

Kurt meets his gaze and cocks his head. “Why would I laugh?”

He shrugs. “’I’m not exactly the kind of guy that gets secret admirers, Kurt.”

“Oh?” Kurt says again, this time with a laugh that Blaine doesn’t really understand. “Apparently you’re mistaken.”

“Apparently,” Blaine says before changing the subject.

They talk about everything and anything and Blaine’s eyes widen when he looks down at his watch so see they’ve already been there for three hours.

“Oh, crap, I have to book it to the library if I don’t want to be late for my shift.”

“You work at the library?” Kurt asks with a smile.

“Yeah,” Blaine answers. “Really fascinating, right? I told you I’m not the type of guy that gets secret admirers.”

Kurt just waves him towards the door. “Go, go. Don’t be late.”

Blaine nods. “I’ll see you in class?”

“I’ll see you in class,” Kurt tells him.

:

The next morning, there’s another note under his door.

_in these dreams i’ve loved you so_

_that by now i think i know_

_what it’s like to be loved by you_

_i will love being loved by you_

_xoxo_

It’s the best possible way to start a day and he can’t stop smiling.

“You look happy this morning,” Kurt comments as he joins Blaine in class.

“Another note,” Blaine says with a grin.

Kurt smiles to himself. “A good one?”

“A great one,” Blaine answers.

Kurt hums a response and doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before the class begins.

Blaine begins to lose track of how often he goes to lunch with Kurt and how long they stay at the coffee shop talking and somehow without realizing it, Kurt’s one of his closest friends. Every once in awhile, he lets himself wonder what it would be like if _Kurt_ was his secret admirer but he always reminds himself that his first note came to him at the library and Kurt didn’t even know he worked there. So he doesn’t let himself linger too long with his wishful thinking.

Plus, Kurt’s like crazy amounts of hot and Blaine is a part-time librarian.

:

For the first time, Blaine actually finds a note during his Intro to Musicals class while sitting right next to Kurt.

_in my life_

_there’s been no one like him anywhere_

_anywhere where he is,_

_if he asked,_

_i’d be his._

_xoxo_

He looks up to meet Kurt with wide eyes because god, what a romantic quote, and he’s surprised to see Kurt watching him nervously, expectantly.

“Look at this one,” Blaine whispers, handing the card over for Kurt to read.

Kurt’s eyes never leave Blaine’s. “Do you like it?”

His mouth falls open in disbelief. “How could someone not like it?”

Kurt blinks and looks visibly relieved but doesn’t answer.

:

He gets a few more cards throughout the semester but they almost become bittersweet. He’s half in love with Kurt and he can’t stop himself from wishing, hoping, _needing_ them to be from him.

Each time he gets a card, it’s a little more depressing.

One falls out of his European History book while studying with Kurt in his dorm room and he sort of just … snaps.

_i should tell you, i should tell you_

_i have always loved you_

_you can see it in my eyes_

_xoxo_

He looks down at the card sadly then looks back up to Kurt.

“You don’t like it?” Kurt says quietly, eyes downcast.

Blaine sighs. “It’s not — I don’t know. It’s just not as romantic as it used to be.”

Kurt nods but doesn’t meet Blaine’s eyes. “You don’t like the idea of a secret admirer anymore.”

“No,” Blaine admits. “Now that I know it’s not who I want it to be.”

Kurt’s eyes dart up. “What?”

It’s Blaine’s turn to look away. “You, Kurt. I wanted him to be _you_.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything but his mouth falls open.

Blaine shakes his head sadly then quickly grabs his books. “I’ll see you in class.”

:

They don’t talk the next day and Blaine heads to his shift at the library an hour early just to keep his mind off things.

He’s putting away a few books from his cart when a little note falls out and it’s just like that first time all over again.

_count all the loves who will love you_

_from now til the end of your life_

_and when you have added the loves_

_who have loved you before_

_look over there_

_look over there_

_somebody loves you more_

_xoxo_

Blaine glances around the library again because _look over there_ has to mean something, he knows it just has to. He turns around, looks everywhere.

And his eyes fall on Kurt who’s studying in the back corner, eyes fixed on Blaine.

“Say it’s been you this whole time,” Blaine says as he walks up to Kurt’s table. “Please tell me they’ve all been from you.”

Kurt gives him a lopsided, embarrassed smile. “Okay.”

“Really?” Blaine says, breathlessly.

“Really,” Kurt whispers.

They watch each other, even more intense than those first looks they shared at the beginning of the semester, and Blaine smiles. “So xoxo,” he says. “I believe that stands for something.”

“Oh?” Kurt says, amused.

“Are you going to follow through?” Blaine asks. “Especially with those Xs?”

Kurt shrugs. “We’ll see. I can’t give away all my secrets at once.”

He follows through with the Os right then and there but waits until Blaine’s clocked out and back in his dorm room before following through with the Xs.

:

On the last day of classes, one last note falls out of Blaine’s bookbag and Kurt watches him with a smile as he reads it.

_twenty four hours can go so fast_

_you look around, the day has passed_

_when you’re in love_

_time is precious stuff_

_even a lifetime isn’t enough_

_xoxo_

: : :

_**Y** our Wish Is My Command: _

The common myth about genies is that there’s a list of rules to follow: they only give you three wishes, they can’t make anyone fall in love, can’t bring anyone back from the dead, yada yada. In truth, though, there’s only one rule genies have to follow: Don’t ever fall in love.

Blaine spends an entire millennium having no trouble with this rule whatsoever. And then Kurt Hummel comes along.

One minute, Blaine’s in his fragile ceramic teapot and the next, he’s standing in the middle of someone’s cramped living room on the bottom floor of an apartment complex. He looks around to find who it was that set him free and makes eye contact with a guy looking wide-eyed, probably in his mid-twenties, with his right hand hovering over the teapot in his left hand that he was presumably just rubbing.

For the first time ever, Blaine is speechless. This guy is _hot_.

The guy blinks at him. “You did not just come out of this teapot,” he says. “Tell me I did not just see you come out of my teapot.”

Blaine offers him a weak smile. “Surprise,” he says eloquently.

The guy stands there, speechless. “I’m high. Finn slipped something in my coffee and now I’m high and imagining hot genies that magically appear in my living room.”

Blaine feels the tips of his ears turn pink. “You think I’m hot?”

“It’s talking,” the guy says to himself. “Now it’s talking.”

They watch each other for a few minutes. Blaine takes a couple of steps forward but then the guy takes a couple of steps back. “I’m Blaine,” he finally says. “And I’m a genie. I’m _your_ genie.”

The guy keeps standing there. “What is happening right now,” he whispers to himself.

“And you are?” Blaine asks, trying to ignore his mental meltdown.

He’s silent for a few seconds more then snaps out of it. “Kurt,” he says hesitantly.

“Kurt,” he echoes, trying the name out. “I like it.”

Kurt swallows, eyes still terribly wide, and quietly says to himself, “Why are you talking back to it? Talking to your hallucinations only makes you more crazy.”

Blaine smiles, magics two water bottles into his hands, then passes one to Kurt. “Here. Just in case you feel faint.”

Kurt stumbles backwards to his couch until he falls down onto the middle cushion, still clutching the antique teapot in his hands.

A few hours later when Kurt has finally calmed down a little bit, Blaine says brightly, “So yeah. Wish away. Whatever you want, just say it.”

“Three?” he asks. “I get three, right?”

“No,” Blaine says with a shrug. “That’s not a rule. Not actually sure where that one originated.”

“Oh,” Kurt says. “So what _are_ the rules?”

“None,” he answers. “No limitations, no boundaries. Wish away.”

Kurt eyes him suspiciously. “How about a piece of cheesecake?”

Blaine snaps and a piece appears before them on Kurt’s living room coffee table.

He looks startled but only for a second. “An entire cheesecake?”

Blaine snaps and it appears right next to the single piece.

“This… is… _amazing_ ,” Kurt says softly.

Blaine grins at him, pleased.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispers, meeting Blaine’s eyes. “Thank you so much.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, smiling faltering slightly. He’s never really had anyone thank him before. “You’re welcome.”

:

Two weeks later, Kurt’s getting dressed up for some kind of date while Blaine sits on the couch and tries not to come across as petulant.

“I wish I had those brown boots, the ones from Barneys,” he says to Blaine.

Blaine snaps, and there they are. Kurt beams at him.

“You’re amazing,” he says as he sits down to lace them up. “And maybe a dinner jacket? One that will fit him right here,” he requests as he taps a picture frame of him and some tall guy.

Blaine inwardly sighs and snaps.

“Fifty dollars says he forgets his at home,” Kurt says with an eye roll. “And I need him to look somewhat presentable to make sure we don’t get incredulous stares at dinner tonight.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything and Kurt gives him a curious look. “You’re quiet tonight.”

He shrugs.

Kurt hesitates. “You could… would you want to come with me?”

Blaine meets his eyes, confused. “You want me to go on your date?”

He grimaces. “It’s an anniversary dinner for Dad and Carole. Finn’s family, not a date.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, oddly relieved. Kurt’s _not_ going on a date and he even asked Blaine to come along.

But there’s a warning bell going off in the back of Blaine’s mind and since falling in love is not an option with this guy, he says, “Thank you but no. I’ll just wait here for you.”

:

After another two weeks, he pops out of his teapot to see the couch made up with sheets and a pillow.

“I wish you didn’t have to sleep in your pot,” Kurt says cautiously.

Blaine swallows thickly and nods. “Okay.”

:

A few days later, Kurt asks for tickets to an off-Broadway show. Blaine snaps and hands them over while Kurt looks at him nervously.

“Would you come with me?” Kurt looks at him with those eyes, god, the eyes Blaine would be helpless against even if he wasn’t a genie.

“Okay,” he says softly. Then he snaps and they’re both dressed in sharp suits, Blaine in black with a bowtie and Kurt in a deep navy with a thin tie.

Kurt inhales. “Look at you,” he says quietly.

“Too much?” Blaine asks.

“No,” Kurt says immediately. “You look perfect.”

“Oh,” he says, self-consciously tugging at his sleeves. “Well, not as nice as you look but hopefully nice enough that someone like you wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

Kurt’s quiet most of the evening but after intermission, he subtly reaches his hand out and searches Blaine’s face for permission to grab Blaine’s in his own.

Blaine pulls his arm in tighter and looks back towards the stage.

He’s getting too close to breaking that rule, way too close.

:

They’re watching TV a week later when Kurt suddenly breaks the silence. “So if there aren’t any rules or restrictions, does that mean you could make people fall in love?”

Blaine tenses. He’s been dreading this conversation for ages. “Yes. Theoretically I could.”

Kurt’s quiet for a minute. “Anyone?”

He sighs and wonders which celebrity Kurt’s going to wish for. He knows he’ll be cast aside after that because who needs a genie when he’s got a super rich celebrity boyfriend that gives him everything he wants? One that can actually love him back?

“Yes,” he says finally.

Kurt hums and doesn’t say anything else.

:

Six months later, he realizes that Kurt’s wished for a nice expensive loft downtown but… nothing else. No luxury boats or Broadway fame or the Steve McQueen fall collection or a vault full of money. No, instead he’s asked for a spare room for Blaine to sleep in. A collection of bowties for Blaine to wear. Nice weather for an outdoor picnic for the two of them. A long weekend at a winery.

Blaine realizes that his rule — _the_ rule — has been broken.

When Kurt comes home from rehearsal that day, Blaine looks at him, panicked. “Okay I don’t think have much time left, Kurt.”

“What? Why?” Kurt asks, confused and a little freaked out.

“I broke the rule and I don’t know what happens or how it happens but it means you won’t be my master anymore.”

“Rule? What rule?” Kurt asks, a little more concerned. “I thought you said there was no rule!”

“There is,” Blaine says, playing nervously with his hands. “And I broke it. I don’t know what happens now, if I get sucked back into the teapot before it magically disappears then shows up in like, Russia or something. Or— I don’t know! This almost never happens so there’s not exactly a genie I can ask about this!”

“Calm down,” Kurt tells him, totally not calm at all. “We can— we’ll fix this! I’m not letting you go.”

He sighs, exasperated. “You can’t do anything, Kurt. Soon enough you won’t be my master. I don’t know how much time we have left.”

“I wish you were in love with me!” Kurt says frantically, words rushing out.

Blaine doesn’t have time to think it through before he says, “I _am_ , Kurt. That’s the broken rule.”

Kurt falters. “You— what?”

“I’m in love with you,” Blaine repeats sadly. “It’s the only rule we have. And if we break it, the master we’re in love with isn’t our master anymore.”

Kurt still looks panicked. “Okay, well can I wish for your freedom? Or that I could be your master still?”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, voice resigned. “I don’t think—”

“I love you, too,” he says quickly. “I have since the beginning and I know I will for the rest of my life, I _know_ it, and I _promise_ I will if you just — don’t leave me.”

He tries to tell Kurt that he _wouldn’t_ , not if he had any choice in the matter, but he suddenly feels ill. His legs feel weak and he can barely stand. “I—” he starts. His vision is blurry and he can’t get his hands to move. “Something’s happening,” he says. “I feel sick and—”

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks, voice a mixture of panic and concern. He feels Kurt walk him back towards the couch. He lies down.

Then blacks out.

:

When he comes to, he’s surprised to find himself not in Russia and not inside his tiny cramped teapot but still in Kurt Hummel’s living room on Kurt Hummel’s couch.

He’s got a cool cloth on Blaine’s forehead. “Oh thank god,” he sighs when Blaine opens his eyes. “You’re safe.”

Blaine looks around and sits up. “What happened?” he asks. He doesn’t feel sick at all, vision fine, hands working perfectly.

“I don’t know,” Kurt answers with a shrug. “You passed out and your teapot shattered.” He points to the kitchen table where the remnants of his ceramic teapot sit, tiny pieces of crushed crystalline scattered all over the table and the floor.

Blaine blinks. “Ask me something.”

Kurt pauses. “Okay,” he says slowly, confused. “Did you mean what you said about being in love with me?”

“No, I mean ask _for_ something,” he clarifies but then tilts his head and smiles at him. “And incidentally, yes.”

Kurt smiles back. “Okay, I wish for a bowl of chicken noodle soup.”

Blaine wants to laugh that even _now_ , Kurt is using his wishes on Blaine in lieu of fancy things for himself but instead he focuses on the bowl of soup. He snaps. Nothing happens.

Kurt watches him curiously.

Blaine snaps again. Still nothing.

They look at each other with wide eyes and wider smiles. “You’re not my master anymore,” Blaine says, finally understanding what the words mean. “I’m not a genie.”

Kurt’s smile fades slightly. “Is that okay? Being a genie must be pretty amazing so—”

“It’s _more_ than okay,” he interrupts. “Or are you not getting the whole _I’m in love with you_ concept?”

He kicks his smile up a few more notches again then tugs Blaine up off the couch to give him a tight hug before pulling back and giving him the most intense, breathtaking kiss Blaine has ever had. (Also, it’s the only kiss Blaine has ever had.)

An hour later when Kurt’s got his head in Blaine’s lap on the couch, he looks up at Blaine, concerned. “But now who’s going to give me everything I want all of the time?”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I have a pretty good feeling that I’ll still be giving you almost everything you want.”

“Really?” Kurt asks hopefully.

Blaine chooses not to answer, already a little embarrassed at his lack of backbone that he’s only had for an hour.

:

True to his word, Blaine rarely says no to anything. And true to _his_ word, Kurt loves him for the rest of his lifetime.

: : :

_**Z** eus (God Forbid): _

Zeus is kind of an ass and everyone knows it. Yeah, yeah, he’s super important and super smart and super powerful and blah blah blah. Mostly, Blaine hates him. Apparently, it’s cool for _him_ to basically sleep with half of the mortal population and impregnate the vast majority of them but Blaine falls in love with just one single, harmless mortal and suddenly it’s some huge crisis.

Just … whatever.

He gets caught making out with Kurt Hummel, the most beautiful boy Blaine has ever seen, behind one of Zeus’ excessively elaborate temples, gets ratted out by Rachel, the most annoying (and only) Goddess of Rumors Blaine has ever had the misfortune of knowing, and then gets grounded for two weeks on one of the highest, loneliest peaks of Mount Olympus.

Being a teenager sucks but being a teenaged pagan god sucks worse.

:

After his two weeks, he immediately descends the mountain and finds Kurt waiting for him behind that same temple. It’s dangerous because he has no idea if Rachel is still lurking around but he’s young and in love and swept up in the intoxicating feeling of the newness of it all, all of which lead to his complete disregard for basic common sense.

He presses Kurt against the stone wall and kisses him senseless. It feels like it’s been _ages_.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Blaine asks breathlessly, momentarily breaking apart. “I’ve been grounded for two weeks so how did you know when I’d be back?”

“I’m not sure,” Kurt admits, just as breathless. “I just … knew. It was a feeling. I knew you would be here today.”

“Really?” Blaine says with a smile. “That’s — wow, I wonder what that means?”

Kurt shrugs. “I just thought it was one of your god things. It isn’t?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers.

Kurt watches him carefully. “It’s not the first time,” he says. “I can sense you sometimes, Blaine. I can tell when you’re near. When you’re looking for me or when you want to see me.”

Blaine kicks up his grin. “That shouldn’t be too hard to do. I _always_ want to see you. I _always_ want to be near you.”

Kurt gives him a shy smile. “Oh.”

Something about his expression bothers Blaine but he can’t quite place it. “Are you — is that surprising to you?”

Kurt lowers his eyes. “You’re a _god_ , Blaine. You probably have all sorts of things to fill your time.” He swallows. “Or boys.”

Blaine’s smile falls. He reaches up to gently tilt Kurt’s chin up to force him to meet Blaine’s gaze. “Only you, Kurt. All my time is for you.”

Kurt still looks unsure. “You gods aren’t known for being very … committed.”

Blaine stares at him with wide eyes. “I’ve never felt this for anyone, Kurt. It’s all you. For the rest of my life, I promise. You’re it.”

They watch each other for a few minutes. “Okay,” Kurt says eventually.

“You believe me, right?” Blaine asks, voice almost desperate. “This isn’t some — you’re not some toy for one of the gods to play with.”

“It’s just — you disappeared for so long. We were finally — intimate,” he says, cheeks turning pink. “And then you were gone.”

“I was in trouble,” Blaine explains, grabbing one of Kurt’s hands in his own and squeezing tightly. “For being with a mortal. That’s all, I promise you.”

Kurt cocks his head and finally looks convinced. “Okay,” he says again. “I believe you.”

Blaine grins at him again.

Then he pushes him back against the wall, kisses him senseless, and loses all track of time.

:

They meet as often as they can. When Burt Hummel finds out, he’s less than thrilled and Blaine has to spend the next few days trying to convince him that he’s not trying to take advantage of his son, that he’s not like the rest of the gods on Mount Olympus, that he’s hopelessly devoted to Kurt and wouldn’t do a thing to hurt him.

A few of the other gods start getting suspicious with how much time he spends with the mortals but no one really calls him out on it. And honestly, Blaine doesn’t even care. He’ll spend the rest of his life loving Kurt Hummel and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him.

Zeus corners him one day before Blaine can sneak down the mountain.

“It’s for your own good, you know,” he says, voice deep and booming enough to scare the hell out of Blaine.

“No,” Blaine says, arguing with the most powerful god _ever;_ he must be insane. “I love him. He loves me. It’s for my own good to be with him.”

“He’ll die,” Zeus says simply. “And you won’t.”

He walks away and Blaine stares after him.

His heart starts beating harder, his breath comes shallower. He can feel it suddenly, the terrible, immense anguish he’ll experience someday when Kurt leaves him, a pain he just knows won’t ever fade.

:

“You’re — you’ll die someday,” Blaine whispers, voice catching. He carefully holds Kurt’s hands in his own. “You’re mortal. And I’m not.”

Kurt stiffens and clenches his jaw. “I’m aware.”

“I’ll have to mourn you,” he continues, words shaky. “I don’t think I’ll ever move on from you, Kurt Hummel.”

He tugs his hands away. “So that’s it? You’re done with me?”

Blaine’s eyes widen. “No, never. The opposite, Kurt.”

Kurt watches him skeptically and says nothing.

“Promise me,” Blaine says, “that you’ll find me. In every lifetime we have together, you have to promise me that you’ll _find me_. And you can’t give up until you do.”

“What?” he asks, voice soft.

“All I want to do is spend my life loving you,” he continues. “In this lifetime and the next and the next. So no matter who we are or where or when, you can’t give up searching until we find each other again. Promise me, Kurt.”

“’In every lifetime’?” he asks. “I don’t understand.”

Blaine watches Kurt carefully and never breaks his gaze. It’s too important. “I’ll come up with something. My father is the God of Time and my mother is the Goddess of Memory. I’ll figure something out, I promise you. _You_ just have to promise to keep finding me, over and over again, for all of eternity.”

Kurt gives him a small smile. “I promise, Blaine. I’ll find you.”

:

This is the lifetime that starts all of the others.


End file.
